


The Bear and the Wolf Maid

by juliannakatharina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Married Couple, Pre-Canon, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 61,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliannakatharina/pseuds/juliannakatharina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"..Was this the plan all along to send our Ned away and marry our only daughter to the boy who happens to be also a lordling squire of Lord Arryn's? What's wrong with the men of the North? Are they not worthy enough to marry one of our children?" </p><p>AU If Lyanna's lady mother had lived and if Lady Lyarra preferred a Northern match for her only daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a what if Lyanna married a Northman (besides her friend Howland). I chose Jorah because I think they seem to have a similar fascination with the South (knights, tourneys, love).

Looking back, I had been a wild and willful child, more so than I believed until I had my daughter. _Wolf blood, my lord father would say of Brandon and I with both amusement and exasperation._ Mother had a touch of it as well to some minor degree as the second-born daughter of Lord Rodrik Stark, who was known as the Wandering Wolf and his lady wife Arya of House Flint. Her elder sister Branda had been wild and restless too before dying so young alongside her equally young husband. Mother had nearly died whilst I was a child, what I remember most from that stressful time was the fear in Father's grey eyes during those moons. Though both she and Father have been dead for many years, I remember her long brown hair and her voice, it was a throaty voice that could crackle like thunder when crossed or as smooth as richest velvet as she sang to us.

I had adored my childhood. I was free to run and ride my horse as I wished. The Wolfswood and the misty moors were mine and Benjen's to play in. The four of us would frolic in the Godswood. It became only the three of us, once my sweet brother Eddard left to squire for Lord Jon Arryn in the Vale. I remember it was when I first dreamt of being a knight like Eddard would likely become. I had a strange fascination and disdain for the South. The feeling of disdain mostly came from Mother's opinions of the South. The fascination came from all the stories and songs about the South. They were so thrilling and vibrant in comparison to the often-dull North. Mother thought they were filling my head with nonsense. Father and the Maester thought they were encouraging a desire to marry a southron lord in me. No, I wanted to be a grand knight. I wanted to live a life worthy of a song. I wanted to have grand adventures like my restless grandfather, Rodrik Stark had in his lifetime. But I was never allowed to wield a proper sword, even the wooden ones eventually were barred from me. Father indulged in my riding but was stern about me learning to fight. Even Mother would not press the issue on my behalf. Perhaps she had but failed as she failed to keep Eddard in the North.

"Why the Vale, Rickard? That is so far. Ned can learn to be a knight just as well at White Harbour. The Manderlys are loyal bannermen to us and I can visit him. I have little time to spend with our children before they are grown and marry. Don't send our Ned away."

I remember her parting words to Ned before he went off to be fostered at the Eyrie.

"Remember, the words I told you once at my bedside, a lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Be safe, Ned. I love you so fiercely. Write to me." Mother had burst into tears as she kissed her second born goodbye. Ned would later echo Mother's words in that somber manner of his as if he should have known at two and ten, what those words would mean.

As children, Benjen and I hid two wooden swords in the godswood and sparred with one other secretly. My secrets were his and his were mine. My little brother and I grew even closer as Brandon grew more interested in girls. He no longer wanted his little sister and brother tagging along in his exploits with his other friends. I loved my three brothers equally but I always had a soft spot for my blue-eyed little brother. Brandon and I were too similar, which created a strong bond and caused us to have terrible rows at times. One secret of Brandon's, I happened to discover was his forbidden relation with Lady Barbrey Ryswell, whilst he was fostered at her lord father's keep. I remember feeling pity for the Ryswell girl who loved my handsome elder brother and hoped to marry him. The way her face lit up at Brandon as we raced with Lord Ryswell's finest steeds. I never knew the depths of Brandon's feelings towards her. He may have truly liked Barbrey or simply felt lust for her as a fifteen year old is bound to feel. I had not yet learned the difference between love and lust.

Our maester died, when I was eleven or so and a new one came from the Reach to replace the sweet old man. All I knew about Maester Walys was that he was a bastard son of a Hightower girl and encouraged Father's southron ambitions, much to Mother's distaste. My lady mother had wept, when Eddard had been taken from her to be fostered at the Vale. Mother's bitterness would later be the driving force to keep me from becoming betrothed to Lord Robert Baratheon, the young Lord of the Stormlands. She vowed she would not allow another one of her children to ride south. Father, Maester Walys, Lord Robert, and even Ned approved of the match. Mother was half Flint and the both clans of the Flints had lived comfortably in isolation. A true northern woman who did not care to see the world beyond her borders. So Mother had despised the South though she had never stepped a foot there.

"Lya is my only daughter! How dare you?! Was this the plan all along to send our Ned away and marry our only daughter to the boy who happens to be also a lordling squire of Lord Arryn's? What's wrong with the men of the North? Are they not worthy enough to marry one of our children?"

"We must make advantageous marriages for our children to strengthen the North. We don't produce enough to feed ourselves. Lyarra, my love, Winter is Coming." 

"I know our words, Rickard. I have agreed that Brandon should marry Lord Hoster Tully's eldest daughter since he is our heir. But I shall never agree to marrying Lya to Lord Robert Baratheon or any lord from the south."

"Ned and Lord Jon Arryn think highly of Lord Robert," Father mentioned.

Mother scoffed, "It is known that he has already fathered a bastard daughter in the Vale, Rickard. Even if he has not, do you truly believe our Lya will ever become a proper southron lady? She can't sit still and she has not accomplished any ladylike refinements. She'd make an excellent Master of the Horse. Our daughter spends more time riding her horse than she does stitching or helping me manage the household."

"She's young, there's time to learn such things," argued Father, ignoring the bit about Robert's bastard.

"Not willingly or happily. Rickard-"

"It's about time, she learnt to do her duty to our House," growled Rickard sternly. 

"Like I did when I married you. Oh don't look at me like that. I loved you then and love so you much more everyday. It was an arranged marriage with the rare sweetness of love. We were lucky, Rickard. My parents had a love like a romance tale." Lyarra kissed Rickard. "All I ask is that you let our daughter have a say if she wants to marry Lord Robert or not. I want our girl to be happy."

"It's the duty of fathers to arrange marriages for their daughters," insisted Rickard though his tone had softened a bit. 

"Aye, but it is also a duty ensure the happiness of loved ones. To see and accept them for whom they are. You must not be so blind to not know that Lya is ill suited for the south. She's a northern girl through and through."

"Are you questioning my love for Lyanna? I would die for her or any our children. I am doing this out of love."

"And ambition. Don't scowl at me, Rickard. She'd happier here in the North married to one of our bannermen. Aye, she does know how to manage a household, but she won't care for the rest. I birthed a miniature of my lady mother and my lord father with your hair. Lya will act impulsively if she does not get her way."

"I have indulged her too much."

"If you did then so have I."

"Lord Robert is very keen on Lyanna. He won't take the breaking of the promise of a betrothal well."

"Aye, but the grumbling of the Northern lords needs to be soothed as well. Their pride is fiercer than that of one young man's."

Mother had won. But Father was right as well; Lord Robert was loudly disappointed that he would not wed I, the wild northern beauty. I was relieved knowing I would not ever marry Lord Robert. Oh I admit I had found him handsome in the brief visit he made with Ned. But I disliked him for his ability to profess 'love' to me then leer and fondle a serving girl within minutes. I had told Ned of my reservations of Robert's ability to remain faithful after marriage. I thought after he complimented me on my riding and the stories Ned told him of me, perhaps he would not care if I wanted to wield a sword like a man. But he laughed, loud booming laughs at my confession. He had stung my youthful pride and I swore that day I would take any opportunity to escape marrying that giant boar. I burst into happy tears, when Father told me in his solar that I would not wed Lord Robert. My nightmare of marrying Robert had disappeared, but my own southron dreams had not died as well.

A betrothal had been struck between Lord Robert and Lord Tywin Lannister's only daughter Cersei some moons after. _She's all he ever wants to talk about besides hunting, Ned had wrote. How golden her hair is._ A Northern betrothal for me was not as easily procured. Maester Walys (and I assume Father) had tried to arrange a marriage with Prince Oberyn Martell as a final attempt but the Dornish were unresponsive. Mother and I found that most of the Northern lords were married or too old. Many of their heirs were also already promised to another or married as well. Many lords scrambled to break off betrothals in hopes of marrying their heir to me. Thus, began a series of conflicts between the Norreys, Umbers, and Karstarks. Father had to issue that longstanding betrothals had to be upheld and send some men to keep the peace.

The search for a suitable northern husband was proving difficult. I would not have minded remaining free for a few years longer. Father mentioned Elbert Arryn one evening, but somehow Arryn was never concerned any further. A second or third son would not do for the sole daughter of the warden of the North. So, I had the limited options of Jon Umber, the heir of Last Hearth, the crannog Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch, and the recently widowed Jorah Mormont, the heir of Bear Island. Only two of the three had replied back to the letters. I later learned at the tourney that Lord Howland Reed had been away at the Isle of Faces. I had not personally met any of these men properly. I remembered meeting Jorah Mormont's aunt, the Lady Maege at a harvest feast, a few years ago. I remembered asking her questions about her mace and grinning at Maege's tart answers to those who asked about the father of her daughter.

I casually chose Jorah Mormont, before Father and Mother could announce a betrothal with Lord Umber's son.

"The Mormonts are an old and loyal House but they are much poorer than the Umbers," warned Mother as she braided my long brown hair. "I know Jon Umber seems terrifying, as he said to being close to seven feet tall, but his castle will have more comforts." I shrugged.

"By the description of Lord Umber's son, I shall likely die trying to birth a babe of his. My hips are not meant to carry such large babes." My breasts had begun to grow to a womanly size but my hips had only marginally changed as I grew. At fourteen, I could still pass for a boy if I wished to. 

"You have the height of a Flint but not the stockiness. You and Ned are slim," agreed Mother. "Very well, I think you should meet him before your father makes a decision." I agreed, hoping buy some time before my brothers and I went to Harrenhal for a tourney. Incase I returned betrothed to a suspiciously widowed Lord Bolton. I would have greatly preferred that I would return to Father no longer pressing to arrange a marriage for me.

From what I recall of meeting my husband, the day had been sunny. It was a good sign. Jorah Mormont arrived along with his lord father, Lord Jeor Mormont. They were bear-like much like their sigils. Upright bear-like men with beards and husky voices to match. Lord Jeor Mormont spoke to Father and Mother of joining the Night's Watch soon as he felt it was about time Jorah ruled as Lord of Bear Island.

"It is a great honor to be your betrothed, my lady." Jorah's voice was gruff. Jorah looked quite like a grizzly brown bear. He was tall and at seven and twenty his hairline was beginning to recede. We walked side by side and my eyes glanced over to his well muscled arms and his profile. Jorah would glance down at me and I would try to pretend I hadn't been looking at him. It was very awkward with some nervous silences but how many first conversations between arranged couples weren't awkward? Jorah had a heavy tread and the way he breathed reminded me of what a bear sniffing the air as it walked through the woods. The song about a bear and a maiden fair popped in my mind as songs were on my mind. As I tended to do a lot, I simply blurted out words without thinking.

"I'm afraid we won't be like the song and I apologize for my lack of fair hair, my lord," I jested with a smile. "But I do love honeycakes." I gasped as I remembered the true meaning behind the words of the song. He cringed awkwardly and looked down. 

"Tis' a silly song, my lady. You must know what a beauty you are with your dark hair. Your skin is fair, fair as the first snows. We can tweak the words to suit you." He talked so seriously but his eyes were merry. I flushed and changed the subject back onto him.

"I recall from making an acquaintance with your lady aunt some years ago that you are quite the swordsman, my lord." He modestly shrugged, though he seemed pleased by the compliment. 

"There is not much to do on Bear Island but to train, my lady. You never know when wildlings or the cursed Ironborn are going to attack." I nodded and my heart raced as I tried to frame a question about my role as the future lady of Bear Island.

"Will I get to fight?" I asked. All I ever wanted was to wield a sword and fight. Jorah blinked in surprise. 

"I would not expect a fine high-born lady like yourself to fight-" I looked away disappointed. "Though I come from a modest House, I am certain I can manage a way to allow you the luxury of such fine gowns. My aunt insisted I gift this to you. Forgive me, if you find it offensive." I took the

I nodded and unwrapped the cloth. His lady aunt must have remembered our conversation at the Harvest Festival and had noted my complaint of not being allowed to learn how to wield a sword with my brothers. For in his large swarthy hands was a small simple sword. My eyes widened at the sight and Jorah mumbled gruffly about the lack of adornment and other apologies. 

"It is the loveliest gift I have ever received, my lord." I kissed his scratchy bearded cheek, which I noticed had reddened. He looked very confused at my effusive response to such an unladylike gift. 

Love did not instantly bloom that day for either of us. The gesture of the sword, whether it had come from Jorah or his aunt, had an impact on me. I didn't hate him nor did I desire him. I had vivid dreams of fighting alongside my three brothers. And once or twice for a few seconds, Jorah would appear in my dreams smiling at me with the blood of our opponent's splattered on our sweaty faces.

I went to the tourney at Harrenhal betrothed to Jorah Mormont. We would be wedded, when I turned sixteen as Mother wished. Jorah was plain and unhandsome to me, as he did not meet my expectations of a handsome princely knight from stories and songs that filled my head. I tried to be resigned to a husband and life that did not meet the same stories and songs. I did not think at the time if Jorah had similar feelings of resignation in marrying me. Jorah Mormont was not the most charming of men but neither was Father or Ned. Despite my disappointment, I did not feel any misgivings about marrying Jorah Mormont like I had with Robert. True, he was twelve or thirteen years older than I. Jorah's age never bothered me, it was the lack of romance and love that bothered me. I have spent a great deal of time wondering if things would have transpired differently if Jorah had gone to the tourney with us? I had taken the small sword with me to Lady Whent's castle and it kept me from making a choice that I fear I otherwise would have made.

* * *

In my opinion there is no one word in the Common Tongue to describe my first experience at a tourney. I left Harrenhal with various emotions and feelings that overwhelmed me. I was confused, embarrassed, horrified, entranced, exhilarated, and depressed. I had left entranced and half in love with the Crown Prince. Depressed that the love was futile. I was horrified with myself for behaving so with a married man, especially after he had humiliated his wife, Princess Elia by naming me queen of love and beauty instead. For sneaking out of my tent in the night to kiss a married prince. Fourteen was certainly not my most wisest year of life. I had been so frightened that someone would catch me as the Knight of the Laughing Tree and take me to the King. I hated the King for ruining my fun with his paranoia. But the prince would not have taken notice of me.

"Show yourself, knight," Prince Rhaegar had demanded, but I had spurred my horse on faster before he could take hold of my reins. I was eventually caught by the prince trying to destroy evidence of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

"I wasn't plotting to kill your father, the king. I just wanted to compete and teach those Freys a lesson. I swear it, Your Grace!" After staring at me for a few moments, his response surprised me.

"You are brave, my lady. It is shame, you cannot continue to compete."

"Will you tell the king that it was I?"

He picked up my painted shield. "No need, my lady. I think this shall suffice." I had let out a breath of relief.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"You are Brandon Stark's sister, Lady-?" I nodded with a bright smile.

"Yes, I am Lyanna Stark."

"It was a pleasure to meet the Knight of the Laughing Tree. I hope to see you again, my lady." We did see each other secretly, at night. The prince and I talked all night about everything. I told him how his song moved me to tears and told him of my dreams of love and adventure. Prince Rhaegar told me about the burdens he had placed with. I sat there fascinated, watching him as he spoke his sorrow of not having a second daughter and the way the moonlight shone on his long silvery hair. He often spoke vaguely about a strange prophecy concerning the fate of Westeros. His words were so eloquent and beautiful as the words he had sung. I always left him each night to return to my tent in a dreamy stupor.

"You have a place in this prophecy, Lady Lyanna. You were destined to meet me. I, fire and you, ice. I am growing more certain of this. You are a warrior like Visenya. A northern one." He kissed me against a large oak tree. "You are so beautiful."

"You were destined to be more than a minor lord's wife." Those words stung me with shame. The very mention of my imminent marriage ruined the moment. I felt the weight of the sword, Jorah had given me. I had honour. I was supposed to be honourable by nature. I was a Stark, honour had been instilled in me by my parents. _What was a Stark without honour?_ The sword burned me with guilt, feeling heavy. I should have said something that night. I should have told Rhaegar that it had to end and I had a duty to another man and to my family. I should have reminded him of his duty to his wife, but that shouldn't have been necessary. I did see again him briefly the morning of the fateful day he became the champion of the tourney. He had only asked a seemingly harmless sartorial question, about the roses stitched on my gown. I had told him, my lady mother had stitched them as they were my favoured blue roses of the North. He had smiled a knowing smile, which confused me until late that afternoon.

Everyone had gone so quiet after Prince Rhaegar rode past his wife, the Princess and stopped before me. I was in a state of shock, when he presented me a crown of blue roses, naming me his Queen of Love and Beauty. I couldn't dare look at anyone, Princess Elia, my brothers, or my new friend Howland. I made brief eye contact with the prince, screaming with my eyes. _Why? Why did you choose me? What if someone makes a connection between the size of the mysterious knight and I? How could you humiliate your wife? I am betrothed to another man!_ It had been nauseating to have all eyes on me. In the tourney ring, I hid behind mask of the Knight of the Laughing Tree, but at that moment, I was bare and exposed. I did not stand up and put the crown on my head nor do I remember even mumbling a word of thanks. _This is every lady's dream, but why am I not happy about it?_

* * *

I must have looked agitated to my lady mother, when Brandon, Benjen, and I returned to Winterfell from the tournament. She came to my chamber, frowning with concern as I was laid in bed staring at my wilting crown of blue roses and my sword.

"It has been quite a scandal, but I assure you Jorah won't fault you for the crown prince's actions. Your father and I certainly don't. Don't listen to these rumours, my sweet girl. They aren't true and we know that. They are cruel vipers and vultures to prey on an innocent and honourable young lady like you. This is why I don't like you children going south." I burst tears and cried in Mother's arms. _You are wrong, Mother. I desire another woman's husband and I kissed him. I cuckholded my betrothed in my thoughts. What is innocent or honourable in that?_

I busied myself with the wedding plans, although it was taking place in two years time. Mother and I prepped the castle for the impending arrival of Catelyn Tully, Brandon's future bride. I written letters to Jorah but never mentioned the tourney or the Prince and his letters back never asked about Prince Rhaegar or the tourney. I wanted to forget it all but I couldn't because a part of me wished to cherish the moments I spent with Prince Rhaegar under the great oak tree. I was a girl infatuated with a prince and dreamed of being a warrior queen like Rhaegar said I was to be.

_You have a part to play, he had said._

"Lya, are you happy?" asked Ben one evening.

"Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you love the Prince?" I took a few moments to answer. My feelings had felt like the love sung by the bards.

"I shouldn't. It'd be easier if I didn't."

"Do you hate Jorah Mormont like you hated Robert Baratheon? You don't seem complain about him."

"No, I don't think I do." _I wish I did. It would make it easier to love Prince Rhaegar if he was detestable like Robert._

* * *

Father and Brandon rode south to Riverrun for his wedding to Lady Catelyn Tully. Mother declined with the complaint of headaches, wishing Brandon a merry wedding feast. She gave Brandon her beloved silver earbobs to give his bride. An heirloom, having been worn by many Lady Starks before her. After kissing Father and Brandon farewell and wishing them a safe journey, Mother stood by my side watching them ride away.

"I have saved something more special for you. It is not as old as my earbobs, but I hope it will remind you of me. My little wolf maid." I hugged Mother and she kissed the crown of my hair.

A few nights later, Benjen and I had snuck out to go on a night ride on our horses. We rode to our favourite spot to sit and stare at the stars and the moon on clear nights. We heard something and stopped chatting, at the sounds of approaching horses. Benjen's blue eyes widen with fear. We had been found, but by whom though? I thought immediately that Mother or someone must have noticed we were out of bed and sent out a search party.

"Ben, get the horses, hurry," I ordered urgently as I strained to see in the dark shadows. I unsheathed by my sword as my heart pounded.

"I think it's the Crown Prince and Ser Arthur Dayne with others. I can see their silver hair in the moonlight." I looked back at my brother mounted on his gelding, pointing at the direction. _What was he doing here?_ I was struck with the feeling to flee back to the safety of the grey stone walls of Winterfell and a desire to embrace the man who enraptured me. Prince Rhaegar atop his white stallion rode within sight followed by three members of the kingsguard.

"My lady mother did not inform me of a royal visit, Your Grace."

"I had to see you again, Lady Lyanna," Prince Rhaegar said. I smiled weakly. "You have not returned my letters." 

"Well you saw me, Your Grace. Ben and I should be getting back to the castle. Our mother tends to rise early."

"Come with me, Lyanna." Prince Rhaegar dismounted his horse and strode towards me.

"I can't just ride off with you." We argued back in forth over why I should or should not run away with Rhaegar. Until Rhaegar's desperation and impatience led him to slip his true motives. 

"Don't you wish to be a warrior? You told me so yourself. Our daughter will be greater than the first Visenya alongside my Aegon and Rhaenys." My heart raced at the word warrior and hearing Rhaegar's melodic voice again. I didn't hear the rest.

"But the babe would be a bastard and my sister would be shamed," argued Ben. I had almost forgotten about Benjen behind me. It dawned on me all the words he said about three headed dragons and his loveless marriage with Princess Elia.

"A baby? You travelled all this way because you want another child. I am not going fight in a battle in this prophecy of yours, am I? I am just a girl you need to have a baby because the Princess cannot have another."

"Targaryens can take a second wife, it has been done before. Our Visenya won't be a bastard, I assure you. I love you, Lyanna. Beautiful, fierce Lyanna. You love me back, you know you do. Together we shall be ice and fire." His voice was desperate. 

"Maybe I do love you. But I didn't want to marry Lord Robert Baratheon because I knew he wouldn't stay faithful after marriage. I can't, I won't do that with another woman's husband." I stared him straight in the eye. "My lady mother fought my lord father to break the betrothal. I am going to honour her efforts and become a minor northern lord's wife."

"Our honour, and our parents' even my Elia's happiness is a small price to pay to ensure darkness doesn't destroy Westeros." I couldn't bear to see or imagine my parents' disappointed or worried faces if I disappeared. Mother's cries would ten times worse than it had been when Eddard had first gone to the Eyrie. Gods knows what Brandon would do in the heat of the moment if he heard I had disappeared in the night with the crown prince. _What would Jorah do?_

"I am a Stark, Prince Rhaegar. I will honour my word and betrothal. I won't go south with you. Not willingly." I glanced at his armed kingsguard warily.

"You are making a grave mistake, Lyanna," warned Rhaegar sorrowfully. One of the kingsguard advanced causing me to raise my sword in defence and Ben to shout my name in worry. "Your duty is to protect women and children. I would never abduct you, my lady." And he didn't but I rode my horse hard and fast back to Winterfell only looking back to check if Ben was still there following. Both of us were out breath as we cooled down our horses.

"What was he going on about darkness and needing another child? Why you? I thought he was a decent prince defeating Barristan the Bold at the tourney. Is he mad like the king?"

"Promise me, Ben, you won't tell anyone about what happened tonight," I begged.

"I promise, Lya. You haven't told Mother or Father I have been the one nicking the lemon cakes from the kitchens."

I was happy for the digression. "No one likes them but you so it's not some great travesty. I don't understand your love for them. Applecakes and honeycakes taste so much better."

Ben wrinkled his nose. "Urgh, no they don't. Anyway, are you going to answer my questions and tell me exactly what happened at the tourney?" I bit my lip and sighed as we snuck back inside, heading to our chambers.

"I shall but not tonight."

"Fine, if I hadn't been there, would you have gone off with him?"

"I-I don't know Ben."

"Brandon, Ned, Howland, and Jorah would have gone and saved you. Jorah could take the Prince. He beat Brandon in the training yard, remember?" I nodded absently. _Yes, they would have searched for me to try to save me. But who would save me from this hopeless love for the prince and dreams of a grand life?_

* * *

I was married a year earlier than originally planned. Mother had gotten ill again and this time she did not get better. Father was devastated in his quiet manner. His long stern face seemed sterner and he seemed quite older overnight after Mother died. Winterfell felt less like my home after she died and Catelyn Tully, Brandon's southron wife had took over the duties as the Lady of Winterfell. The castle was different as well, a sept had been built for Catelyn, since she prayed to the New Gods. I never hated or resented Catelyn for filling in Mother's shoes. I was just too numb to care. Catelyn was a maternal woman as she spent most of her life looking after her two younger siblings after her lady mother died. She enjoyed mothering Brandon and her's first child, a girl named Arya. Mother had been pleased with the name choice. In comparison to Catelyn, I still felt like I still needed to be mothered.

Ned had come home for her burial. We sat just the two of us by the edge of the hot pools.

"Brandon wants me to stay to help him run Winterfell," announced Ned after we had stopped our tears and finished our prayers.

"Are you staying or are you returning to the Vale or the Stormlands?"

"I haven't made my mind yet."

"I am getting married. I hope you stay for that at the very least." Ned nodded and I rested my head on his shoulder. "She never got a chance to tell me about wedding nights or birthing. I'll have to go to the new septa or Catelyn Tully."

"You weren't present for our niece's?"

"Gods, no. I was busy drinking with Brandon and Ethan Glover, whilst we waited. Mother shooed me away anyway."

"You will make a fine mother one day."

"We'll see." I peered up at Ned, "Have you been told, Ben wants to join the Night's Watch." Ned nodded sombrely.

"He's too young. Father wouldn't allow it."

"I know. Catelyn has offered to have Ben fostered at Riverrun as her brother is of similar age. He's more determined now I am leaving for Bear Island soon."

"It's just grief. He'll forget about his thoughts of joining." _Grief is a strange thing. Ben and I want to run away. Brandon clings to his lady wife. Father grows sterner and converses with Jon Arryn almost daily about something none of us have a clue about._ I stared up at Ned's long face that was similar to my own. _How do you grieve Ned?_

* * *

I almost screamed when I woke feeling arms around me. I stopped when I remembered that I was married. I was now Lady Lyanna Mormont of Houses Stark and Mormont for almost a whole day. _I am no longer a maiden, I am now a fully wedded and bedded woman._ So much changes had happened in a short period of time. Brandon had become a father, Mother had died, and now I was married. I lay awake reflecting on my wedding and the surprisingly merry feast afterwards. I didn't even feel the urge to run away throughout the day. The bedding ceremony was even more mortifying than I had ever imagined it would be. I shuddered remembering Roose Bolton's groping and his unsettling eyes before Brandon and Ned shoved him away.

"Cold?" My new husband's voice was very gravelly in the morning.

"I am fine," I replied as he pulled more furs around me. I didn't turn around to face him so we lay there silently until I asked, "What do we do now?" I had been a small child the last time I attended a wedding. He had been married once before so I decided should follow his lead.

"I suppose we should get up and dress then go to the Great Hall to break our fast." _With the bloodstain sheet behind us to prove I was indeed a virgin and was not spoiled by Prince Rhaegar at the tourney._ I sat up looking for a gown. Jorah got up out the bed, standing fully naked as he stretched. I sat there watching until I realized I should put on a gown.

"Need help with your dress, my lady?" asked Jorah as he donned his clothes.

"Just with the top buttons and the lacing."

"We don't have ladies' maids at Bear Hall. My aunt never saw the sense in them though I assume you are used to that sort of thing. I can lace your gown for you in the morn or a servant girl can learn quickly." His voice sounded a bit ashamed.

"You seem to do it well enough. I never cared for faffing over gowns and such." I'd rather dress in less cumbersome clothes, like simple dresses and boy's clothes. As he laced me, I noticed the red stain on the sheet. I frowned remembering the pain was not as terrible as Catelyn said it would be. In fact I felt very little. _Was that proper?_

"Ready, my lady?" My new husband kissed my cheek, waking me from my thoughts. I quickly combed the messy curls with my fingers. I gave Jorah a look before taking his proffered arm.

"My name is Lyanna, you should use it now. Or Lya if you'd prefer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *when I first wrote this the wiki hadn't been updated to show Rickard's dad had been the Lord of Winterfell. I had assumed incorrectly that Lyarra's dad had been the Lord and it had been a cousin marriage to keep the Stark male line going...
> 
> so I changed necessary changes in some of the dialogue. :)


	2. II

Maege had bursted with pride, when her nephew put on the thick Mormont cloak with the erect black bear on green over Lady Lyanna Stark's shoulders. She grinned broadly as she watched her nephew point out places on the island to his young bride, as they rode to Bear Hall. Her eldest of her two young daughters, Dacey had tugged on her dress and whispered,

_"She's now a she-bear like us."_

Of course, her elder brother was staring at his only son and his new good-daughter without a smile.

"You have the face of a bitter crone, brother. It's usually like that but I don't see a cause for it today."

Jeor grunted, "I wonder how this marriage shall fare." Maege assumed he meant Lyanna's ability to bear a male heir or any living child as that had been problem in his son's first marriage. Not the lack of _love,_ Jorah had griped on and on about, when he wedded the young woman of House Glover, Jeor had chosen. 

"Oh, she will be taking moon tea for a year or two. Aye, Lady Lyanna is thin but the Starks are made of hardy stock. It's hard to kill a Stark, so they say." Jeor grunted but said nothing. "I don't think it will end like Jorah's marriage to poor Elena."

"I meant her youth and the silly stories Lord Stark put in her head. She was supposed to wed the young Lord Baratheon and live his fancy castle in the South." Her brother's raven returned his perch on Jeor's shoulder. "I have tried for years to knock some sense into Jorah about his interest in becoming a knight and pretty highborn ladies. I won't be here to do so for both of them." The raven echoed Jeor. _Knock!_

"What would you want me to use to _knock_ sense into them? My mace? A wooden spoon? Or how about that jug carved into the shape of our sigil? I think that'll do the trick." She cackled to herself and at her brother. "You haven't left for the Wall yet and you are already prospecting doom and gloom." Her elder brother gave her a side eyed glance before continuing.

"He's very put out that she's been crowned queen of love and beauty by the Crown Prince. Tis' an insult to our House and my son. I fear what lengths he will do to prove himself worthy." Aye, that was true. Jorah had been moody after word reached Bear Island about the events at the tournament at Harrenhal. Winning a tourney had been one of his fanciful southron dreams. Maege did not disclose to Jeor that her nephew had broken Tallheart's nose for suggesting Lady Lyanna had lain with the Crown Prince.

_"Karstark and I reckon she liked that Prince Rhaegar had the First Night. Howled like a she-"_

Maege had trusted the word of a Stark and was proven correct in that unfailing trust.

"Never thought much of the king. Now I can say the same about his son. It will be Jorah's cubs that she carries not the prince's spawn. Maybe she will fight off the Ironborn then crown Jorah her lord of love and beauty." She chuckled at that. "I think your worries about your new good-daughter are bit unfounded, brother. Our Lady Lyanna is highborn but I think she won't mind if her hands become a bit rough from wielding a sword or an axe."

Jeor gave a sigh of concession, "As long as they live in reality and not in the clouds. I imagine they will be fine." _Corn! Clouds!_

* * *

Bear Island was both beautiful and harsh as just Jorah had described fondly to her. It was mostly treeless yet very green and rocky in the very southern portion of the island. The rest of the island was covered in thick woods of tall pine and old knarled oaks. The grey rocks were covered with a dense layer of soft green moss. There were many strange birds that Lyanna had never seen before feeding on salmon from the sea. It was certainly more colder on Bear Island than it was back at home in Winterfell. Lyanna wanted to get off her horse and explore the area on foot. But both young and old inhabitants of the small fishing villages along the coast had come to greet their new lady. The rare presence of a Stark on their island usually meant battles to keep the Ironborn invaders away. It was quite the oddity that a Stark was now the lady of their island.

"I never thought I'd lay eyes on a Stark of Winterfell. You look like a fine princess in a book I once saw, mi'lady. I couldn't read the words but it was pretty to look at," a woman with wind chapped cheeks and lips fawned with awe. She dipped her flaxen head in a bow. The three young children who either her siblings or her own children peered up at Lyanna curiously.

"Why thank you. Hello," Lyanna greeted with a wave, feeling unusually shy. She received some wildflowers from some small girls. Jorah dismounted from his horse to help the girls give the flowers to Lyanna.

"Yer lady is very pretty, mi' lord." Jorah stared at Lyanna intensely as he answered the little girl.

"You are right Marra, she is very pretty." Lyanna's face went warm and she broke eye contact. Thankfully, her cheeks were already pink from riding for hours in the cold wind.

"Thank you for the flowers." They cheered and voiced words of welcome. Many in the small crowd of people also gaped at her and whispered, "That's the great lord's daughter's," "She's far prettier than the last," and other things Lyanna could not decipher. Some of the elders spoke in the Old Tongue and called out things to her. Lady Maege laughed from the back. Lyanna smiled politely before turning to Jorah.

"What did they say?"

"Words of welcome to the island and they wished you good luck living amongst bears." She felt stupid if she had asked if they meant the actual bears that inhabited the island or Jorah and his family.

On the rough narrow dirt road to Bear Hall, Lyanna stared up at the tall pine trees, wondering aloud about the view from the tops of them.

"You like to climb trees?" Lyanna was slightly miffed at the slight incredulity in Jorah's deep voice.

"Yes, we all liked to climb the walls of Winterfell and the trees. My lady mother and Old Nan said it was the Flint in us that made us climb things." _It was mostly Ben and I. Brandon grew too tall and heavy, which gave him poor balance. Ned liked to only climb so far to get a good jump into the hot pools._ Jorah regarded her for several moments then stared at the rough road ahead. The thought of Mother and her brothers made her quiet with sadness. Her heart ached for Winterfell and her family. The four Stark children would never climb the walls or the trees in the godswood together again.  _We aren't children anymore._   _Why can't we go back to those times and let time stop?_

* * *

Lyanna's good father left for Castle Black a fortnight after their arrival to Bear Island. She stood by the gate awkwardly as Jorah bid his lord father a safe journey. Jeor handed _Longclaw_ , the Mormont ancestral sword.

"Here, son. I trust you to take great care of this sword. It's yours now. Rule and defend this island as our forefathers have." _Defend!_ There was glimmer of emotion in the older Mormont male as he spoke to his only son. Lyanna had noted differences of the father-son relationship between Jorah and his lord father and her brothers and Father. Father was a stern but he was far more vocal about his love for his four children. She wanted to fill the silences and say the things she knew her husband and her good father were thinking. _So stubborn, what if this was the very last time you saw each other?_ Jorah nodded and stood a little straighter as he took the sheathed Valyrian sword.

"I shall," promised Jorah gravely. Lyanna walked up to Jorah and hooked her arm in his. She kissed her good father on the cheek and bid him a safe journey. They watched Jeor ride away with his raven on his shoulder in the late morning light and mist. 

Lyanna declared, "I wager he'll become the next Lord Commander, one day." Jorah smiled. "I know I haven't known your father for very long, but I think I am going to miss him." They turned back to the logged castle. Jorah wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Aye, but I'm glad to not see or hear that awful bird again." Lyanna laughed, but she found Jeor Mormont's pet raven more odd than annoying.

"Jorah, didn't you get the sense that the raven was trying to say something?" The raven had swooped down next to her cawing for corn several times but it would randomly caw out words like _song, die, snow,_ and _war_. Jorah frowned sceptically as he opened the thick wooden door for her.

"It just repeats words my father has said. But it is a clever bird, I'll admit that." She nodded accepting her husband's scepticism as her attention turned to _Longclaw_.

"May I hold it?" To her surprise, Jorah acquiesced her request. He sat down on one of wooden benches in the smoky hall before unsheathing the sword to let Lya hold it. She stared at the bear detail on the pommel of the hilt. _Longclaw_ was a light yet deadly bastard sword.

"It's not a greatsword like your father's. Just a bastard sword." Lyanna could tell he was proud of the sword but also found it lacking for some reason. She thought of Father's  _Ice. I_ _ce_ , the Stark ancestral greatsword was huge and smokey grey and she had been annoyed that she had lack the strength to pick it up with the same ease as Brandon.

"There many greatswords and bastard swords in the seven realms. How many Houses in Westeros have an ancestral sword that's made with Valyrian steel?" She smiled as she inspected the ripples in the blade. Lyanna tested it out, fighting an imaginary opponent. "It's lovely." 

"Thank you," she beamed as she handed the old sword back. "I think I know one of things I wish to do for my sixteenth nameday." Jorah quirked an eyebrow and smiled. Lyanna wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Oh? Your nameday is not for awhile."

"I know."

"What is it you wish for?" he asked. Lyanna bit her lip. 

"May I wield Longclaw for a couple of hours on my nameday? I promise I will use it with the greatest care and I know it's not a toy. Oh please say yes." Jorah frowned and his immediate reaction was to quietly say,  _no._ Lyanna's grey eyes shone with hopeful excitementand she watched the war in Jorah's mind, similar to Father's long ago before he outright forbade her to wield a sword. 

"Oh, please, Jorah." 

 Jorah beginning to realize he quite liked the way her pouty pink lips smiled at him, especially the way she smiled when he said _yes_ to her demands.

* * *

After living on Bear Island for several moons, Lyanna was unrecognizable from the sad, sullen yet beautiful girl dressed in Stark greys and whites, Jorah married before the great heart tree at Winterfell. Lya was free spirited and had taken to life as Lady of Bear Island quite well. She did all her duties as a lady of a castle, the most challenging was managing the wares. His people liked her as well not just because she was a daughter of Winterfell. Jorah himself, grew to like her. He had thought the Old Gods were mocking him for wanting a beautiful _southron_ lady as a wife and desiring to become a knight and to win a tournament. For the Old Gods had given him as his second wife, the highest-born  _northern_ beauty who had been crowned queen of love and beauty by not just any other knight but the handsome crown prince.  

She could behave like a proper lady, when it suited her and if a particular situation required her to behave so. Lyanna could be sweet but sharp. Her lady mother had warned him once of Lyanna's _wolf's blood_. He did not understand what the late Lady Stark had meant. Jorah and Lya walked in the woods and her smiles at his gifts of posies of wildflowers met his expectations based on songs and stories of romance. True, her hair was not like smooth golden silk, it was dark, wild, and tended to curl at ends. He had had a longstanding preference for blondes, with one exception. His first wife had fair hair but plain of face and he had never been physically attracted to her. It would be a gross lie, if he said he did not find Lyanna attractive. 

As they both became more comfortable around each other, Lyanna and Jorah grew unafraid to speak their minds even if it differed with the other. Jorah often sparred with swords and words with his wife. He learnt that underneath her beautiful face was an iron will to get her way. It was quite something to have the small sword he had gifted her pointed at him. Jorah learnt that Lya swore like a fishwife, when she raged. It often felt like they fought as much as they kissed under the canopy of oaks or in their bed. They mostly agreed on large matters but loudly bickered over the most trivial matters. He was an early riser because of his duties as lord and simply out of habit. She liked to stay awake late at night and rarely was up to see the sunrise. Lya would be cross either way if he woke her up or left her to wake up on her own.

Dark ale produced a rosy cheeked Lya who wanted to dance northern reels all night and she could be quite flirtatious if they did not have an argument mere hours prior. Jorah was not a man who danced often. However, he danced each time Lyanna wished to only because she had convinced him to dance with her and he didn't want another man holding up his drunk lady wife. It was certainly not because he adored each moment she murmured _my bear, my husband_ and stroked his face in between dances. The home-brewed spirit (the personal favourite of Maege's) was far too strong for Lyanna for she either spat it out or got sick. Jorah tried his best to keep Lya from drinking it, knowing he would be getting no enjoyment of smiles or kisses if she drank more than a couple of sips of the potent clear liquid.

It was hard for him to reconcile his highborn wife _wished_ to learn how to fight, when it was the duty of husbands to protect their wives. Lyanna wanted to fight like his aunt did and as did all the women on Bear Island, when krakens rose from the sea. Jorah watched with misgivings as she had plaited her long hair and dressed in a boy's shirt and britches. Lyanna was enthused to get to properly train how to fight. 

_"You got a wife who will be your squire, once you get your knighthood," Maege laughed as Jorah frowned after his wife and aunt had cajoled him into allowing this._

"You have some skill but your technique is poor at best, Lya." Jorah's assessment was not well received by his proud wife. He had easily deflected her moves, earning him a scowl. Lyanna's grey eyes narrowed in outrage and frustration.

"I think my way works just fine," she argued hotly.

"I didn't give you that sword for you to kill yourself with your stubbornness," he growled back.

"I didn't spend my time learning to play the harp or embroidering pretty scenes. I watched the master of arms teach my brothers in the training yard, then I practiced in the godswood. And I have successfully defeated three men." She grinned proudly. 

Jorah snorted, "Then I pray, none of your brothers fight any Ironborn or wildlings if that is true. And whom has been humiliated with defeat by your prowess with a sword?"

Lyanna smiled smugly before answering, "Three squires at once to defend a friend. Ethan Glover once for being an annoying twat before that. In the tourn-" She stopped speaking as if she spoke too much, "Are you going to teach me your superior _technique_?" Jorah regarded Lyanna with curiosity. He knew she was about to say tourney, but he knew to not press her on the subject. Lyanna never spoke about the tournament at all and he was dying to know exactly why. He had asked her once to tell him about it, but she got defensive. Jorah had merely asked about her guess on who the mystery knight who incurred the paranoia of the king. 

"Forgive me, wife. But I don't fight like a squire."

* * *

He learnt why she never spoke about the tournament at Harrenhal or when news or gossip from the court at King's Landing reached Bear Island she would become visibly agitated. Jorah felt it intrusive to open and read the letters Lyanna received from her brothers, so he often gave them to her without looking at the waxed seals. Besides she would tell him what Benjen or Eddard wrote without him even having to ask. 

One day, Jorah found her outside of Bear Hall crying as she threw a letter on the dirt ground. The wind blew the fine parchment a few feet away. Jorah picked it up quickly. He was about to ask if something had happened to her brothers or Lord Stark, when he saw the three headed dragon stamped in the sealing wax. Jorah was both taken aback and furious. _What does the Crown Prince want with my wife?_ He had forcibly convinced himself that Lya being crowned by the married Prince Rhaegar had been a trifle matter. The insult now burned as he held the letter. She watched him with wary and defensive eyes.  

"I tried to tell him to stop writing me. He asked me to run away with him and I told him I wouldn't run away with him. I didn't tell you because I did not think he would ever write to me now that you and I are married. I'm sorry, Jorah," she explained. "I have been ignoring his letters, hoping he'll give up and realize I am not going to run away."

Jorah felt a sense of dread. He had been fearing Lya could be kidnapped and raped by Ironborn raiders or by a bands of wildlings. True, she was fierce but she wasn't properly trained to defend herself yet. Perhaps, that was why he was easily convinced to allow her a sword. He had been training her to fight to lessen his worries if he was forced to leave her side and the nightmare of him returning to a Bear Hall without his smiling, sharp tongued Lya. It was alarming how quickly he had become so attached to Lyanna. Mors "Crowfood" Umber's only daughter had been stolen by wildlings, amongst many other women in the North. The thought of a prince trying to steal his wife away never crossed his mind, despite the fact said prince had humiliated his own wife to crown Lyanna.

"Well aren't you going to read the letter?" He crunched the letter into a ball with his fist.

"After you tell me what happened at Harrenhal," his voice came out harsh. Lyanna flinched visibly and looked overwhelmed until he gently drew her into his arms. She clung to him as if some invisible force was going to pry her away. She tearfully told him again about meeting Lord Howland Reed after she had beat the Frey, Haigh, and Blount squires who attacked the crannogman. 

"You already spoke of this," cut Jorah impatiently. Lyanna glared at him.

"There was more to it, Jorah. Ben thought it would be a good idea to teach them a lesson by defeating them in tournament. He even managed to find mismatched armour to fit Howland. However, Howland did not want to enlist so I did. It was me. I was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Everything was alright until the king declared that I was his enemy. I knew I wasn't going to win the tourney but I wanted to beat Brandon. I would've if I had gotten the chance." They sat on the low frozen stone wall, still holding one another. 

"Continue." 

"Anyway, the king sent the prince after me. Prince Rhaegar found me trying to hide the armour after he chased me. He didn't tell the king about me and we met in secret. We talked and he told me how sad he was that the Princess couldn't bear another child. I told him about my dreams to be a knight. He spoke of a way I may help in a war to come. By the seventh night, he told me he loved me and he said I was just as fierce as Aegon the Conquerer's sister wife Queen Visenya. I kissed him and let him kiss me because I believed him. I am sorry." Jorah was jealous that she had been kissed by the crown prince whilst they were betrothed. He had remind himself that she had been a girl of fourteen. But judging by her reaction to Prince Rhaegar's letter, she no longer wanted his attentions. Unless she just felt pity and guilt for almost jilting Jorah, then his pride would be stung. He knew he was not a handsome man like her brother Brandon or Robert Baratheon but here he stood married to the highborn beauty who had rejected Baratheon. _And supposedly Prince Rhaegar._  Jorah kept in mind the fact that she did not find him entirely unattractive for he had caught Lya staring at him unabashedly as he worked with the men. He had once overheard his aunt loudly talking to Lya as she watched him help the fishermen.

_"If you keep your mouth open for much longer a weasel will go in. That's what my lady mother always told us," smirked Maege."Ah, the way the boats rock left to right, mesmerizing, eh?"_

_"Y-yes, quite so."_

_"I can tell you don't find them quite as mesmerizing as my nephew's hips as he pushes the boat into the water." He heard his vexing aunt snort with laughter as she stomped away. He glanced at Lya who had turned pink. As he walked over to pick up a rag to wipe the sweat off his brow, he noted how dark her grey eyes were watching him. Giving him the feeling that there was a high chance they would be making stops through the forest of pine on way back to Bear Hall._

"That's why he crowned you queen of love and beauty," he finished with growing ire.

"I did not enjoy it. No one was smiling and I felt uncomfortable," she declared miserably. "Ladies are supposed to be flattered and honoured to be crowned queen of love and beauty. Aren't they? Well I wish he hadn't done so." _I would win a tournament and crown you my queen of love and beauty to make you smile. No awkward silences and the crowd would be in all smiles. Rhaegar may have crowned you first, but I'll shall be the last one to and the first to make you smile._

"Why does he want you? To be his mistress?"  _I won't give her up. I won't be paid to turn a blind eye._

Lyanna snarled, "I would never be any man's mistress. I would never dishonour myself or us."

"It's not your fault," he soothed his upset wife. Jorah was relieved that he still had a chance. Lyanna looked up at him and shook her head as she said, "There's more." His stomach clenched. 

"Rhaegar came to Winterfell in the dead of the night with three members of the kingsguard. Father and Brandon were away at Riverrun. I swear I didn't know he was coming, it was by chance Ben and I snuck out to ride our horses. I thought he truly loved me and promised me to way to be myself but he wanted me to run away with him to have his third child. That's all I was to him. He said it would be worth the shame, that it was necessary. I told him I wouldn't go with him because I was marrying you. I-I even pointed the sword you gave me at them." He tried to smile at that last bit, but it came out a grimace. It pleased him that something of him had been there to protect Lya. All of the lords believed Rhaegar was a good and just prince in comparison to his unstable father, King Aerys. _Was that really true?_  Rhaegar could have started a war if he had taken Lyanna away willingly or not. _Of all the women highborn or lowborn in Westeros, why Lyanna? Surely there were women who were willingly to have his bastard child if he wanted another child that his wife couldn't give._ Utter political stupidity could have happened. Jorah raged internally, wondering if Rhaegar would dare come his home to abduct his wife. 

"I stopped taking my moon tea. Once I am pregnant with our child, he won't want me anymore. I truly like living here. I like your cousins Dacey and little Alysane. I like Bear Hall. It's smaller but I don't feel confined in it all day managing it." Her voice was stronger and more certain with her naive notion that his seed would protect her more than him. It could kill her just the same like it did to his first wife. His hand want instinctively to her flat stomach. He wanted fatherhood more than a knighthood. Lya was still quite young, so he did not mind spilling onto her belly and her taking moon tea until she was sixteen or seventeen. He had taken his aunt's precautionary advice, as he did not want his young, vivacious bride following his first wife to the grave. Although it was just mere weeks until her nameday. 

_If you die in childbed for this reason, Rhaegar will have stolen you from me just the same._

"Take your moon tea," he said gruffly as he retracted his hand from her stomach. 

"I don't love him anymore. I am not sure if I did truly. I think I might lo- I do really care for you, Jorah." The way her voice faltered, as if she was doubting her understanding of love. Her long pretty face was filled with confusion. Jorah despised Rhaegar Targaryen for tainting Lyanna's notions of love (not that he knew what they were) and disturbing their burgeoning relationship. For winning and crowning Lyanna before he had chance to. He was jealous and angry that the crown prince tried and continued to try to seduce Lyanna Stark from him. He found that he was jealous that Lyanna had thought of another. He quietly stewed in his thoughts. Lyanna never liked silence so when Jorah had his sullen silences, she tended to prattle on to herself. "Why do married men look elsewhere? I don't understand, Father did no such thing to Mother. It's a dishonourable thing to do. If he is not satisfied with his two children, then if his mother the Queen has a girl. Can't he dote on her like a daughter?" Her watery grey eyes looked up at him questioningly. He cared not for sex of the next royal child. Jorah cared that Lyanna knew that he would honour the vows he made to her, until he died. That he was no Lord Robert Baratheon with his bastard children, or Prince Rhaegar desiring a mistress and a bastard child. He did not know that she wanted a faithful husband more than a crown of her favourite roses. 

"If there is one thing Mormonts don't lack, it's loyalty. _Here We Stand_."

"I knew I chose wisely. My bear, my husband." Her hand stroked the side of his face. He held her pale hand to his cheek and smiled. Her eyes were still red from tears but her pouty mouth smiled for him. The smile she gave him was brighter than any gold or pretty blonde hair.

* * *

 

If Rhaegar had intended to ride the North again to pursue Lyanna, he never got a chance to do so. Tywin Lannister had been waiting for the perfect moment to bring the downfall of the Targaryens and place his good-son Robert with his faint Targaryen blood and his daughter Cersei as king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. He had wanted to wait until he had a grandson for Cersei Baratheon had borne a daughter of black hair and blue eyes named Myrcella the year before. She was expecting the second Baratheon babe, when King Aerys had commanded the presence of his cousin's son and his lady wife to court.

The young Lord and Lady of Storm's End had witnessed many examples of King Aerys' erratic behaviour. But the breaking point was when King Aerys insulted and enraged Lord Robert for trying to take violent liberties on the pregnant Lady Cersei in front of everyone during the feast. The king shouted that she deserved it for looking like her lady mother, Lady Joanna. Ser Jaime Lannister was imprisoned for joining in Robert's defence of his twin sister. Lord and Lady Baratheon fled back to Storm's End before they too were imprisoned alongside Jaime Lannister. Robert was no Tywin who quietly nursed each slight, he roared and pledged to kill the King for the insults and violence against his lady wife and him. _His unborn son._  Robert blasted at Jon Connington's loyalty to the crown not to his liege lord. He roared a lot in comparison to the reaction of Cersei and Jaime's lord father. The only thing noted of Lord Tywin's reaction was the rage that his eldest son was being held prisoner charged with treason and attempted murder of the King.

Lord Jon Arryn, Lord Rickard Stark, and Lord Hoster Tully believed it was time to lead the rebellion they had been secretly plotting to put Rhaegar on the Iron Throne. But Lyanna's younger brother broke his promise to his sister and voiced his opinion that they should place Robert on the throne instead of the Crown Prince Rhaegar. Lord Stark had asked for his youngest child's reasoning and Benjen came clean about everything from the tourney at Harrenhal to Rhaegar and the three members of the kingsguard's secret trip to Winterfell. He cried that he didn't want what Mad King Aerys tried to do to Lady Cersei to happen to his sister if Rhaegar became king. Jorah had saved the last letter Rhaegar sent to Lyanna and sent it to his good father, Lord Stark. Lord Stark revoked his support for Rhaegar and convinced Lords Arryn and Tully to do the same. The great lords turned their back on Prince Rhaegar and lent their support to Lord Robert Baratheon.

There were tears were in Lya's eyes, when Jorah departed to join the war. He knew she had written to her lord father begging him to force Jorah to stay behind. She had tried everything from railing at him, kisses, and tears to convince Jorah to not go.

"I hate the Targaryens. I hate Robert for starting a war. I hate Father for joining the war. But I'll hate you even more if you don't come home for our child's birth," she swore. Jorah kissed her growing belly. Despite the tears and her sullen face, she looked radiant now that she had finally stopped being ill in the morn. She had resisted to accept the changes in her body. _Did everything have to be a fight with her?_ Lyanna was furious that Jorah refused to let her train with her sword. He had threatened to take away her sword if she broke her promise to not risk hers and the baby's health. Jorah feared the baby would come too soon if he allowed her to continue to ride her horse and train with her sword. Only long walks accompanied by either himself or Dacey had been allowed as he was aware both he and Lya have gone mad if she was kept cooped up inside their log keep. He was grateful that Catelyn Stark would be keeping an eye on his willful Lyanna.

_"You might as well lock me up in a tower for the next nine moons!" she screamed at him._

_"I wouldn't even bother. Your howling from the window would echo all over the island. And what kind of lord would I be to subjugate my people and my ears to listen to you howl insults at me all day?" he shot back._

Lyanna was terrified of birth, particularly birthing the baby all alone at Bear Hall. She poorly attempted to hide her anxiety once her father called the banners. Thus he brought her to Winterfell so she wouldn't be alone and scared. He hoped the familiarity of her childhood home would calm his high strung wife, whilst he was away at war. Jorah had ideally hoped the babe would be born in his hall where he had been born. Jorah had also hoped to be there when the babe came. It was poor timing that he and Maege were leaving with some men of Bear Island to join Lord Rickard and Brandon Stark who were already in the Riverlands joining forces with Lord Tully's army. He was not optimistic that the war would end in five moons.

"You'll be fine," he soothed as he bent down to kiss her farewell. She huffed and took out a piece of blue heavy linen. _Not a silk favour like in the southron stories._ It was the same colour of the roses she loved so much. Lya inelegantly shoved it into his large hand.

"Here, to remind you that you must come home alive before I name the baby Joramun or Edwylla." His mouth twitched in amusement that a mild threat was thrown in with the romantic gesture. _How Lyanna._

"I'll wear it with pride and think of you." He wrapped it around his neck tucked under his chain mail and breastplate. "Are you jealous that you can't go to war yourself?" He kissed her deeply again. 

"Maybe," she grudgingly admitted as she crossed her arms over her bump.

"I love you, Lya." He traced his swarthy finger along Lyanna's pale jawline. He had said those words first on her sixteenth nameday. Jorah said them again unreservedly, after she placed his large hand on her stomach as she told him she was carrying their child. Lya didn't lower her eyes and whisper that she cared a great deal about her bear, her husband. This time Lyanna looked him straight in the eye, smiling tearfully.

"I love you too. Please don't fight _like a green squire_ , my bear." Jorah smiled broadly as he brushed an errant curl from her face before mounting his horse. He doesn't want to leave her side, but he had to. So he looked back at Lyanna twice as he rode away. The second time, he looked back Catelyn carrying a little Arya and Benjen stood on either side of Lyanna, waving. 

* * *

Nobody truly won in the rebellion in the end. Yes, the Targaryens had been killed or exiled, marking the end of their rule of Westeros. King Aerys had been killed in his attempt to set the castle aflame, when the Lannister army charged through King's Landing. Aerys however managed to get the last laugh on Tywin Lannister by burning young Ser Jaime Lannister alive. Princess Elia had escaped with her children to Dorne once the outbreak of war started. Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys were at Dragonstone last Jorah had heard. They said, Cersei Baratheon had wept at the news of her twin's murder and had been furious with her lord father for being too slow to save Jaime. The news of her husband's victory in the Stormlands was marred the fact he could not physically take the throne due to his wounds. He had been wounded in battle somewhere in the Stormlands. So Ned rode with Robert's army to King's Landing to take the throne in Robert's name. Lady Cersei had prayed for her husband's life, the crown she had been promised since she was a girl, and that the babe she carried would be a boy. If Robert died and if the babe she carried was not a son, the Iron Throne would go his second youngest brother Stannis or anyone who claimed it.

The North also lost many good men including Jorah's good father Lord Rickard who had been slain in the last battle in the Riverlands.

Jorah had been surprised the Crown Prince showed up for he had been fairly absent with the exception of a few battles in the crownlands. He been fighting Ser Barristan the Bold alone after Mors Umber's two sons had been killed by Barristan. When the prince arrived on the battlefield, Brandon rode straight for him, shouting that he would die for trying to seduce his little sister Lyanna and for dishonouring the Starks and Jorah. Lord Rickard Stark had rode after his eldest. Jorah fought Selmy, trying to defeat the elder knight so he too could fight Prince Rhaegar in Lyanna's honour. She was his lady wife after all. Barristan was determined to kill Jorah than let Jorah get anywhere near Prince Rhaegar. He heard Brandon shouting amidst the fighting.

"Fight me and die!" shouted Brandon. He had been too occupied in fighting Barristan Selmy that he never saw Prince Rhaegar kill Rickard Stark. But Jorah had heard Brandon howl in rage and grief. He had seen Brandon pick up his father's greatsword and continue to fight. He had heard Lyanna in those howls. Jorah took out his anger at Rhaegar on Barristan Selmy. He just wanted to kill Rhaegar alongside Brandon. _He killed her father._ The image of the sad, sullen Lyanna grieving her mother entered his mind. 

"Gods, Mormont. You practically killed Barristan," shouted a voice. Jorah looked down and Barristan was on the ground bloodied almost dead. Rhaegar had been slain by Brandon but Brandon was wounded badly. He should have knelt to his good brother, the new Lord of Winterfell as Glover had done. He just stood there, glaring at Rhaegar's dead body.  

"I killed him for her and Father. How dare he? He fucking tried to explain himself then he killed Father," cried Brandon in agony and grief. "He wanted and tried to kidnap and rape my little sister. He killed my father. He deserved to die." _If I had taken Selmy down faster. I could have saved your father. I should have gotten to Rhaegar first, before Brandon did. I am so sorry Lya._ He wondered if he would be greeted by a kiss or slap. But Jorah knew one thing; if Lyanna held any lingering feelings for Rhaegar, they would be wiped away once the news would reach her at Winterfell. 

"Rhaegar said he loved your lady before he died," said Ethan Glover as he picked up and cleaned  _Ice._ "He said a woman's name, I figure it was your lady's."

"He didn't love her. He just hurt her a thousand times more than if he ever did love her," Jorah growled lowly as he carried Brandon off the battlefield. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally wanted Jorah to deal with Rhaegar but I gave the fight Brandon had wanted in canon.
> 
> sorry about any errors.


	3. III

Lyanna was an awkward soul, when she spent time alone with her good sister. It was easier, when her little niece was present as Catelyn often became too absorbed with her daughter that Lyanna could easily slip away to find Ben or young Jory Cassel. She did not have any friends that were girls, especially 'proper' girls. Lyanna being an only daughter amongst three sons, had no clue about the intricacy of sisterhood. She learned soon enough from Catelyn that it involved needlework.

"But your baby will need clothes and blankets, sister," protested Catelyn, when Lyanna suggested they do some other activity. Lyanna cringed that she had not put much thought about clothes or anything for the baby. She figured she would use Dacey and Alysane's old baby smocks and swaddling. Lyanna wondered if there was a stash of baby clothes and blankets tucked away somewhere in Bear Hall that had been made by Elena Glover. Would it be odd to use something her husband's dead wife made for the children she had died and hoped for?

"Yes, my baby will need clothes. Honestly, I think I should have an seamstress make them. I'm afraid my skills with a needle are rather poor." Catelyn's blue eyes widen and her mouth made an 'o'. She really didn't want Catelyn to see her make poor stitches. Lyanna cringed at the memory of how many times Mother made her rip out her basic stitches and redo them. Lyanna was about to feign a tender stomach because of the baby, when Catelyn suggested kindly,

"Well, we can talk whilst I sew. I can try teaching you another day?"

"Sounds lovely," agreed Lyanna setting down the needle and fabric a tad too enthusiastically. Catelyn regarded Lyanna's stomach with slight envy as she picked out some blue fabric.

"I was hoping to be with child as well but my moonsblood came. Arya is still small but it's such a lovely feeling to hold a babe against you. It's the best feeling."

"Brandon will come home and I sure you-" Lyanna trailed off and wrinkling her nose at the thought of her brother and Catelyn's lovemaking. "Arya will have a brother or sister soon." Catelyn hoped for a son for Brandon. She told Lyanna that Brandon and Lord Stark believed that Arya was just like her.

"Arya just has the Stark colouring. She has your face," argued Lyanna. "I am sure there's some Tully in her." _For your sake_. Catelyn was a very beautiful young woman with dark red hair and bright blue eyes. Lyanna felt rather plain next to her striking good sister. Little Arya was certainly the prettiest of babies. Catelyn smiled and asked if Lyanna had any names for the baby in mind or if she was leaving it to Jorah to name their child. Although she teased Jorah that she would name the baby Joramun or Edwylla, in reality she had no idea what to name the baby especially if it were a boy. She did not know if there was a male Mormont family name like Brandon was for House Stark. _I'll have a nameless son until Jorah comes back from war._ Lyanna quite liked the names Sarra, Eryn, and Bree.

"Makes sense that a father name a son." Lyanna blinked and touched her stomach.

"How do you know I am having a son?"

"Mere guess, sister." Lyanna smiled. 

"I have a question about the tourney at Harrenhal." Lyanna's eyes widen and her smile froze. She did not want to ever talk about that tourney for a long long time. She was slightly relieved that her lord father had not been at Winterfell, when she arrived. Lyanna had been afraid of what her father thought of her sneaking from her tent to meet Rhaegar at night by the oak tree. Lyanna felt herself get defensive, thinking Catelyn was judging her for being alone with a man unchaperoned whilst betrothed. _I won't sit in my mother's solar and let her judge me._

"What was Ashara Dayne like?" Lyanna was taken aback by the question. She racked her mind for a memory of the tall, beautiful lady dressed in lilac.

"Um, I never spoke to her for more than a few words. Only really Brandon and Howland Reed talked to her at the feast. You see-" Catelyn pursed her lips.

"I have heard she has given birth to a bastard daughter that's older than my Arya." Lyanna gaped at the gossip.

"Well, the Dornish people view bastards differently I have heard. I am sure the child won't suffer too much." Lyanna could not imagine being in Lady Ashara's place. Catelyn pursed her lips with quiet anger, 

"I'll learn to live with it as long as she doesn't send it north and Brandon doesn't allow it to live with our children." It all the sudden dawned on Lyanna why Catelyn was displeased. 

She said quickly, "Brandon danced with her, yes, but I am quite sure he didn't father her child."

"Oh, are you sure?"

"Yes, Brandon fell asleep drunk, Ned had to help him back to his tent." Catelyn looked visibly pleased, her blue eyes went watery. Lyanna bit the inside of her cheek as she realized Brandon could have lain with Lady Ashara. Lyanna had not been watchful of her eldest brother and his wandering eyes. "He-just asked her on Ned's behalf for a dance."  

"Oh I feel silly now. You know Brandon best. Benjen wouldn't speak a word of it to me, when I asked. I thought maybe it was true because I noticed Lady Dustin seems quite enamoured by Brandon and she was so pleased that I had a girl. Brandon having a bastard is so much more easier to imagine than Eddard. I suppose you never know with the quiet ones." _Don't ask me about Barbrey please._ Lyanna prayed that Brandon was not a fool to continue his dalliance with Barbrey. Lyanna remembered the words Jorah growled at her after he caught her trying to ride her horse. Catelyn had a more calm personality than Brandon. With Ned having declined Brandon's request to return to Winterfell and chose to divide his time at the Eyrie and Storm's End. 

"Why doesn't Eddard not marry Ashara?"

"Perhaps, they don't know about Ashara and the child. If Howland and Ned have heard, I am sure they'll will go to Starfall, when they can." The red haired woman nodded but Lyanna could tell the thoughts of Ashara Dayne were far from her mind now.

"I remember how forward Brandon was during the latter half of our betrothal. We stayed proper, I wouldn't have allowed us to be otherwise before marriage. It was trying as he is charming and gallant. My sister Lysa hopes to marry a man as handsome as my Brandon," reminisced Catelyn. "I hope one day, Brandon will look at me as Lord Mormont looks at you." Lyanna smiled in responsed and fiddled with Mother's necklace around her neck. Catelyn changed the subject and began talking about a new maester who was coming to replace Maester Walys. Lyanna did not pay attention, thinking of when she first noticed Jorah looking at her differently.

* * *

As promised on her sixteenth name day, Jorah had allowed Lyanna to carry Longclaw around and spar with him and Maege with it but that happened much later than expected. In the early morning, Jorah had woken her with kisses and with her favored sweet. Jorah came back to their chamber to find that her snuggled under the furs on his side of the bed. His northern wife barely shivered, when he gently pulled the back the furs. He kissed her inner thighs that tickled her awake, then her breasts. She groggily yawned and stretched before wrapping her hands around Jorah's neck to pull him closer for a kiss.

"Happy nameday, Lya. I have brought some honeycakes up," he murmured between several kisses. She smiled sleepily.

"You didn't have to," she hummed happily as she sat up to reach for the plate of the warm cakes.

"Thank you," she said between bites. Jorah watched drips of honey land on her collarbone. "Aren't you going to have a cake, Jorah?"

"I'll have what's left over," he replied. Lyanna's dark eyebrow quirked at his response and how his eyes followed the warm sticky honey and the crumbs trickle onto her chest. She quietly laughed when she noticed his britches had suddenly grown too tight. Lyanna stared at him amused as she ate one cake after another. She picked up the largest crumb left with her sticky fingers and fed it Jorah. His eyes darkened as he licked the honey off her fingers. She thought obscenely of his tongue licking her elsewhere.

"Do you mind if I tarry a bit to wash up? I think it might've been Old Nan who once said it's dangerous to be covered in honey in the presence of a bear. But I have also heard it is said it's the surest way to catch a bear." His eyes suggested it could go either way. Her voice was light and teasing and she was about to burst into a fit of giggles. Lyanna wondered if this had been the motive of Jorah in his decision to bring her favourite dessert to their chamber. "I am afraid I haven't left much. Are you hungry, my bear?" Jorah groaned as she tugged at the laces of his britches.

"Ravenous, love," he kissed her sweet mouth as they hastily stripped off his rest of his clothes.

Lyanna was physically weary from catching a bear with honey several times and duelling with Jorah and Maege. It may have been her nameday but they didn't go easy on her. The Ironborn and the wildlings won't, they warned. She caught her husband watching at her from the side next to Dacey, when she glanced at him for an encouraging smile. It was different from the way he normally looked at her. Lyanna could easily recognize lust in Jorah's eyes, this stare was softer and something else she couldn't put her finger on it. But she was too focused in blocking Maege's attacks to try to analyze. After she beat Maege, Lyanna decided she was being silly and decided the lingering stare was just mere pride in her advancing skill.

By time the dancing started during her nameday feast, Lyanna could barely keep her eyes open but she challenged herself to dance four dances before resting her sore body. The rich food and ale dulled the ache of her muscles and satisfied her hunger but both made her more drowsy. Lyanna wouldn't have bothered changing out of her training garb and donning one of her finer gowns for the occasion if Dacey hadn't insisted. It's your nameday. She danced with one of the crofter's sons for the first dance. Lyanna smirked at Jorah's jealous face from his seat. Lyanna was not at all surprised, when Jorah came up from behind to claim her for the next dance.

"Enjoying your nameday?" Jorah asked as placed his hands on her waist.

"I am," she answered with a bright smile. "Dancing with Ed has been the best part." Jorah grunted.

"He stood on your foot. I saw you wince." Lyanna rolled her eyes that he felt it necessary to mention that, when it was they both knew she was jesting.

"Well, what do you think was my favourite moment?" yawned Lyanna resting her against his chest. Jorah said something but she couldn't hear. Suddenly she was picked up and carried by Jorah.

"But I only danced two dances," she protested.

"We danced thrice this morning. I've exhausted you, my lady."

"Oh?" She felt him rumble with quiet laughter. Lyanna dozed off in his arms on the way to their chamber. She did not wake whilst Jorah undressed her and slipped a nightgown on her. She woke up tucked in bed and wrapped in his arms. Jorah was staring at her again like he had earlier.

"Have I been asleep for long?"

"Not long." She rested her head on his chest and stroked the hairs on his chest.

"Thank you for adding the wolf on my sword," she said softly looking at her sword next Longclaw. "May I ask why you chose a white wolf, instead of grey?"

"I remembered when you ran outside to dance while it snowed. You looked like a winter queen with your hair sprinkled with snowflakes." Lyanna blushed that he remembered that and thought her beautiful. A young red faced Brandon had once said she looked like she had the scalp ailment of dry, itchy flakes of skin, after she had pommeled him with snowballs. Lyanna rolled on top of Jorah and kissed him deeply.

"I love you, Lyanna," declared Jorah, when they parted from the kiss. Lyanna's eyes widen stunned completely not expecting those words. Lyanna broke eye contact instantly and stared at Jorah's neck, collarbone, and right shoulder. _Say something._ Lyanna willed herself to say the words back, but she had recklessly said them to another. _I won't be reckless again._ She had to be still in love with Rhaegar, right? What she felt for Jorah wasn't the dreamy, floaty, songlike feelings Rhaegar had stirred. Yet, she questioned whether her love for Rhaegar was actually love or not. Rhaegar was beautiful, and he was many things she wasn't. She was hot tempered and willful. The prince was melodic and melancholic. He looked and sounded like the princes in the stories. She had been as entranced with Rhaegar as much as she was baffled by him. Lyanna still did not understand the prophecy he had spoke of and why he cared so much about it. Rhaegar had spoken so passionately about it and he often would stare through her as if he could see the words he spoke come to life. _Did I know Rhaegar at all?_ Lyanna still felt betrayed and demeaned by Rhaegar's lack of care about her reputation and his main interest in her as a means to get a child he wanted.  _Needed._

She had been so rigid in her beliefs of love that questioning her beliefs left her in a quandary. Lyanna was no longer sure of what romantic love was. Lyanna was certain that she cared a great deal for Jorah. Despite their petty arguments and his long sullen silences, she enjoyed being around him. Jorah was kind and offered good advice, when she practiced with her sword. He was proud that she loved his home as much as he did. She admitted to herself that she found him physically attractive despite him not being as handsome as Robert Baratheon or as beautiful as Prince Rhaegar. She loved being kissed by Jorah Mormont. Lyanna was also certain she enjoyed Jorah as a lover like how Brandon had enjoyed his trysts with Barbrey Ryswell. _A friend and a lover._ Lyanna desperately wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear. She was scared what she felt for him did not measure up to what he felt for her and wondered if what she felt was love or not. But lying to one's dear friend and husband was not a honourable thing to do. She could have chosen to ignore what he said, but Lyanna was braver than that.

"I care a great deal about you, Jorah Mormont. You are my dearest friend. My bear, my husband," she expressed sincerely, hoping she hadn't crushed him. Her eyes stung.  _What if I never feel the same?_

* * *

A little over a moon, almost two moons had passed since her nameday and her moonsblood never came. The servant girl who helped her dress in the morning, couldn't do up the top laces.

"Mi'lady, the dress is too tight around your bosoms. I can try again if you wish." _A baby._ It had to be since she had not bled, was feeling sensitive towards certain smells, and now her gown was too snug. It was such a strange notion to think a baby was growing inside of her.

"I'll just wear it anyway. Do you know where Lord Mormont has gone?" she wondered. The serving girl looked at her in surprise.

"I believe he was heading off to deal with some disputes, mi'lady. But milady, your-" Lyanna quickly ran out of the chamber and raced downstairs in search of Jorah. She saw him riding away at a distance. _Damn it._

"Jorah!" she shouted but he was too far away to hear her. Lyanna was too excited for his excitement and smiles once she told him about her revelation to stop in think that it was probably best to wait for him to return. Her body still felt her own so she did not think or remember that riding could cause a miscarriage. So Lyanna ran to the stables for her horse to ride after her husband. It did not take her too long to catch up with him. Jorah and his men slowed at the sound of her horse.

"Lyanna?" Jorah's face was filled with surprise at her voice shouting his name as he rode his horse towards her.

"I have been shouting for you- I rode after as fast as I could-" Lyanna breathed. A feeling of nausea hit as she dismounted. The surprise on his face was gone in a flash. Jorah looked at her horrified and full of rage. His knuckles holding the reins have gone white.

"What happened to you?" rasped Jorah. She touched her uncombed hair, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"I didn't have much time, you were already gone off," she explained breathing heavily. Jorah ran to her and she smiled as he grasped her arms firmly. "I need to tell you som-"

"Who did this to you?" He had taken off his black bear skin and wrapped it around her protectively, before she realized her gown was torn and undone in an unseemly manner. _Should have changed into my training garb._ The wild look in his eyes darting at the road she came riding down. He was muttering curses about wildlings, how he was sorry...until she grabbed him by the sides of his face.

"Oh no, Jorah. That's not what happened at all. I haven't been attacked. Our home is safe. My gown wouldn't fit and I have-" Lyanna was suddenly conscientious of the men close by and if Jorah had noticed how exposed her breasts were, they had certainly had as well. "May we speak in private, Jorah?" Jorah ordered them to go home that he would go later to settle the disputes.

"Why have you come shouting for me looking like you have been _disrespected_?"

"I didn't want to wait to tell you," she replied as he calmed down. "I've missed my moonsblood and as you see I don't fit my gowns in particular areas. You- we are going to have a wolf-bear cub, my bear." Realization slowly dawned on him and Jorah smiled broadly as she pressed his hand against her still flat stomach.

"You are with child," he stated softly with amazement."A baby."

"Happy?" Jorah was grinning and kissing every inch of her face and neck. Lyanna laughed, loving the feeling of his light beard against her skin.

"The happiest, my lady. I love you." She felt happy as well despite the odd feeling that someone would call her Mother one day. Lya still felt like a child-woman despite marriage. It felt real now after telling Jorah. My daughters won't be barred from a sword. Lyanna imagined tall swarthy broad shouldered sons like Jorah. "Gods, you have great tits, love, but I prefer them covered in public." He looked annoyed at the thought of others looking at her breasts.

Lyanna rolled her eyes and muttered, "Duly noted. I'll need new gowns to prevent this from being a reoccurrence." Jorah nodded. The horses made a noise, catching Jorah's attention. He grabbed her by the arm and walked her to his horse. 

"I can ride back on my own, Jorah," she argued.

"No, we are riding back slowly or walking if you resist. You and your horse galloped here. Pray that hasn't caused a miscarriage." Lyanna's free hand went to her stomach at the thought she may have caused harm to the baby. Jorah tied her horse to his then helped her mount his horse before he did himself.

"I can't ride a horse until the baby is born," Lyanna said with disappointment. She didn't think she went more than a moon without riding her horse since she learned how to ride.

"I am no healer, but I wouldn't advise it, Lya. Maybe the slow moving horse, Alysane learned to ride with." Lyanna frowned.

"But Maester Walys once told me I should have been born a Dotpaki because I love riding horses so much. He said the women with child ride their horses even up to birth." Jorah grunted.

" _Dothraki_. I am the lord of Bear Island not a Dothraki khal. I care more about your life and our child's than your ability to ride horseback in any condition."

"What about my lessons?" she asked.

"No," Jorah said firmly.

"What am I going to do until this baby comes?" she cried with annoyance. Lyanna was enjoying her freedom to do what she pleased.

"I'll think of some ways to keep you entertained, love." Lyanna pouted as he leaned back against his chest as he kissed her neck.

"Well, one of those ways got me in this state," she grumbled.

* * *

Lyanna grew annoyed of the cage of being with child. She understood Jorah's wariness over her health and safety and was pleased that he cared for her so much. But it was starting to grate on her nerves being treated as if she were made of Myrish glass. Her one dizzy spell panicked Jorah, which made him all the more protective. _It is a miracle I'm allowed to walk anywhere, she thought sarcastically._ Jorah allowed her to ride a horse at a very slow walk if she truly _needed_ to go on horseback. Lyanna declined as it wasn't the same as galloping through the woods, which helped clear her head. Lyanna was overwhelmed and grateful by Jorah's constant adoration of her. He made sure her cravings were satisfied. She wondered how the prince would have treated her if she was carrying his desired third child. Lyanna knew she was a moody shrew to be around but the moods would come unbidden. 

Jorah marvelled at her growing stomach and talked to it at night even when Lyanna was fast asleep. Lyanna had initially felt disconnected to her unborn child, not liking that it controlled her body. She resisted the weight she gained and was disgusted by how often she got ill. Lyanna hated feeling weak with nausea and fatigue. _I am not a weak little girl. I am a wolf of Winterfell._  The baby made her ill at all times of the day and made some of her favoured foods smell or taste repulsive. Jorah and Lyanna went for a walk to the sea sometime before the outbreak of the war. Lyanna was perched on the grey stone boulders as Jorah was wading through the grey-blue water.

"Catch anything else?" she called out to him. "Your lady wife shall starve with these meager fish." The fish weren't at all that small but Jorah was convinced he would catch something larger.

"Patience is required in fishing, love." Patience was something Lyanna lacked. Lyanna enjoyed the salty air that calmed her nausea and calming sound of the  water. She slipped off her boots to dip her toes in the cold water. Lyanna felt relaxed and much more like her normal self.

"We should have went to that stream that we usually go to."

"I am going to catch it," he shouted stubbornly.

"The baby will be born before you do," she muttered as she picked up stones by her to throw in the water. Lyanna felt something jostled inside her. Maege had asked her a week prior if she had felt the baby quicken, but she hadn't. Lyanna had been waiting for this moment. She looked down at her stomach and watched it move with fascination. Her little wolf-bear cub was more than a little fluttering butterfly in her stomach.

"Jorah!" she beckoned. "I can feel the baby move." Jorah's head snapped up from his concentrated stance and waded over to her. He placed his large hands on her stomach. Another little movement came a few minutes later. Jorah grinned emotionally.

"Strong one," he commented in awe. She stroked his right hand and stopped at his signet ring. Lyanna looked up at him guiltily. She had hurt him with her words a few days earlier. He had been hurt enough that he did not sleep in their bed that night. Maege had found him drunk at the tavern the next morning.

_"She doesn't want my babies. Rhaegar probably put that in her head."_

_"Of course, she wants them. Come home, my foolish nephew, Lyanna is red eyed and pale as a ghost that you haven't come home."_

"I didn't mean it when I said I didn't ever want to get pregnant again and that I would drink moon tea. It's been hard but I do love our baby." Lyanna placed her smaller hand over his. "Lord Mormont, you are a brave bear to deal with this awful snarling she-wolf."

"It's worth it, love." He brushed his fingers over her lips. 

"I'll try to be less of a shrew next time," she promised. Jorah kissed her and she was disappointed he broke away so soon. He smiled at her disappointed pout.

"Better have this fish cooked before your sweet mood turns sour from hunger."

* * *

 She had spent the morn with Catelyn in the sept. Her curiosity of the Seven drew her into the dimly lit and heady with incenses sept. Lyanna did not know any the words of the prayers so whilst, Catelyn had prayed to the Warrior for Brandon, Father, Eddard, and her Uncle Brynden. Lyanna stared at the Mother and the Maiden and the flickering candles all around. Catelyn then rose to light a candle at the altar of the Mother. It struck her how little she knew about other faiths. All Lyanna knew was the Old Gods. Maege, Dacey, Alysane, and Lyanna went to the godswood on Bear Island to pray and worship the Gods. Jorah never went with them. 

 _"Jorah's become a bit of cynic since Elena's second failed pregnancy."_ Lyanna wondered if Jorah returned to the godswood to pray for their babe. She herself prayed for Jorah, her lord father, her elder brothers, Maege and Howland's safe return daily. Sometimes alone or with Benjen. 

"Here let me help to your feet, Lyanna," Catelyn had offered gently as Lyanna struggled to stand with her large stomach. It was growing close to birth. Lyanna had been in the Glass Garden smelling the sweet scents of the flowers, when the terrible news about her lord father reached Winterfell. She had avoided looking or smelling the winter roses for the only brought back the memories of Prince Rhaegar, and the tourney. Lyanna wanted Jorah with her. Her pregnancy was going more smoothly despite the back pain. The baby moved more frequently even in her sleep. He's wanted this for so long and he's missing out. 

"Lya!" cried her baby brother distraught. Lyanna spun around and clutched her sobbing Ben in her arms. Fear hit her. 

"What's happened Ben?" 

"He's dead. Father's been killed." Lyanna broke out into a sob. She hadn't seen her lord father since the day she left for Bear Island.  _He's never coming home._

"How?" she howled with grief. Benjen's sharp blue eyes looked at her carefully. 

"The Prince killed him. Brandon avenged Rhaegar with Ice. He's at Riverrun recovering from some wounds." Lyanna sobbed louder. "I'm sorry Lya. I shouldn't have told him about you and Rhaegar. I should have kept my promise to not say a word." 

"It's not your fault, Ben. I shouldn't have been so stupid to trust him and let him fill my head with silly notions. Father wouldn't have felt it necessary to join Robert's rebellion." _He killed my father. He said he loved me, yet he took Father from me._ Rickard's two youngest children clutched each other as they mourned his death until it grew dark. 

"What of Jorah?"  _Rhaegar can't have taken my bear from me._

"He's alive according to Lord Tully. He and Ethan brought Brandon to Riverrun." Lyanna smiled tearfully in relief. 

"Benjen, Lyanna are you alright?" called Catelyn who's face was puffy and red with tears as she entered the Glass Garden. 

* * *

Jorah itched to ride to Winterfell after they had made it to Riverrun. Brandon was better under the care of the maester of Riverrun. Jorah's cuts and bruises were properly kept clean. He, Ethan Glover, and Brandon were in the chamber Brandon was convalescing in. 

"Ser Barristan the Bold, brother," crowed Brandon with a smile. "My little sister will be so proud of her warrior lord husband."

"He has not died yet. Nothing to boast about."

"Aye, Lord Bolton suggests I just have him killed. What do you think? Nothing to boast about? You took him down single handed." Brandon shook his head.

"Umber wants to thank you for avenging his sons for him," added Glover.

"You are the Lord of Winterfell tis' your decision not mine or Lord Bolton's," he replied. Jorah didn't deserve Mors Umber's gratitude. _I wasn't thinking of his sons, when I fought Selmy._ Brandon's smile faded slightly. Glover shifted uncomfortably.

"I am now," he murmured quietly. "Selmy doesn't think much of me. He spoke about me dishonouring Lady Ashara Dayne. I would remember if I had, trust me. You wouldn't forget her beauty. He's the one with the white cloak having less than celibate thoughts about her. Just the sister of his brother Arthur Dayne." Brandon snorted, "He wanted to fuck her himself. Should have been more _bold_ and asked her." A thought hit Jorah at the mention of Dayne. 

"Where was Ser Arthur Dayne, Hightower, and Oswell during the battle?" Jorah wondered aloud. Lyanna had told him the three had accompanied Prince Rhaegar, when he rode to Winterfell. 

"Who knows, likely at King's Landing or with the Queen. Maybe Dayne went with Princess Elia back to Dorne. He is Dornish." _Yet her own uncle died in the Stormlands._ The Maester knocked on the door, and brandished a small scroll.

"A raven from Winterfell, my lords." Jorah rose from his seat and unrolled it.

_Lady Lyanna Mormont has birthed a hale son. Both are well. - Lady Catelyn Stark_

"Did Lya have the babe yet?" questioned Brandon impatiently.

"Lya is well and I have a son. We have a son. Your lady wife describes him as hale." He smiled with relief. Lyanna and the baby had survived child birth. Jorah wanted to go to Lyanna and their son that moment. 

"Course he is. No soft little lordling will survive the North. Congratulations, good-brother. How strange to think and imagine my little sister as a mother."

"Looks like you need to heal faster and get back to Winterfell to Lady Catelyn, my lord." 

"Aye, Catelyn wants another babe and I miss my little Arya. Father would have been proud of Lya. He always was even with what happened at Harrenhal." Jorah tucked away the letter and felt his elation grow sombre. Was their son's birth more of a happy occasion or a bittersweet one?

"Come now, Lord Rickard would have wanted us all to drink in celebration of Lord Jorah and Lady Lyanna's newborn heir."

"As your lord and good-brother, I command you to go your lady wife and son tomorrow. Oh bring, Lord William Dustin's horse back to Barbre- Lady Dustin for me. I think it's best I don't go myself." Jorah agreed imagining his Lya with their son at her breast.  _Like the lady at the gate of Bear Hall._ Lord Tully, his younger daughter Lysa, and his heir Edmure congratulated Jorah on his newborn son and his victory against Barristan Selmy. Lysa had stared at him curiously. 

"See Father, Lord Stark allowed his daughter to marry a poor lord. Why can't I marry-" Lord Tully halted her with a stern face and words. 

"Lord Mormont is from an old and proud House of the North. Not an upstart. Speak no more of this, daughter." Jorah was in a light mood and was sat next his good-brother. Brandon took a deep gulp of his flagon of ale. 

"Visenya. His last word before I killed him was not my sister's name. It was Visenya." Jorah had been smiling at some ribald tale, Mallister was telling everyone. His smile died remembering the letters and Lyanna's words of Rhaegar's obsession with her bearing him a second daughter. Lyanna had a son though. _Our son._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a review :) xo. 
> 
> Having a lot of Jorah feels, since the last episode(s).


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny detail: I changed the birth order of Mace's children, with Margaery as the eldest then followed by Willas, Garlan, and Loras as the youngest.

"What of William's remains, my lord?" asked Lady Barbrey Dustin sharply after Jorah brought Lord Dustin's roan horse back to his widow along with the news of his death. Jorah awkwardly stood there for a moment before answering,

"He was properly buried in the Riverlands. Brandon-Lord Stark ordered that I return your late husband's horse to you, my lady." Barbrey's handsome face twisted in bitterness and grief. She suddenly smiled unhappily as if she finally learned a painful lesson,

"Yet my lord, I suspect _he_  will bring his lord father's bones back to Winterfell. My lord husband should be laid to rest on his lands, not in some field in the Riverlands." Jorah could not argue with Lady Barbrey's words. He would want himself to be buried on Bear Island if such a tragedy should occur. 

"I'm sorry for your loss, Lady Dustin. Lord Dustin fought bravely," he said with sympathy. She pursed her lips and nodded.

"Thank you, Lord Mormont."

She laughed unkindly and spoke with an angry quaver, "I am shocked. I would thought Brandon would have came to see me, but he sent you instead of coming here himself." 

"Lord Brandon is still recovering from his wounds at Riverrun," Jorah explained with a frown. He suddenly began suspected some affection had occurred between his new liege lord and Lady Dustin years ago. Lady Barbrey let out another harsh laugh as she turned away taking the reins of the horse in her quivering hand.

"His wounds shall heal but mine shall never." 

Jorah watched Lady Dustin for a few moments then rode away. Jorah did not dwell on the anger of Lady Barbrey for his only thoughts was of seeing his son and his wife.

* * *

Lyanna stared at her newborn son as he slept in the cradle. It was a strange new feeling to be protective and love such a small little being. He had dark brown hair like hers and pale yet swarthier skin than her porcelain skin. His birth had been a difficult and painful birth and Lyanna had lost a lot of blood. Thankfully the new maester of Winterfell, Maester Luwin and Catelyn had helped her keep calm as much as possible.

_"My lady keep calm. This is natural and yes, very painful. However, you panicking could put the babe into stress and cause difficulties." Catelyn nodded in agreement with the maester._

_"_ _Breathe, sister. Think about your child, how soon he or she will be in your arms," soothed Catelyn holding Lyanna's hand as Lyanna howled in pain. Lyanna had been about to go to bed, when she watered herself. Hours later, she was on her knees gripping her good-sister's hand and a sheet tied to the bedpost._

_"I want my mother. Why is this taking forever?!" she cried in pain. "I want Jorah."_

_"Births are no place for fathers to be," corrected Luwin. Mormonts could if they wanted to. She learnt from her lord husband's aunt that Mormonts did what they wanted. Maege never married and bore two children that carried the Mormont name not the bastard name in North, Snow. Jorah despite marrying his first wife out of duty and even Lyanna for the same reason, believed in love over duty. It was something Lyanna shared in common with Jorah despite her upbringing to put duty first. Lyanna decided she was having Jorah with her the next time. Lyanna stared at Catelyn's fine pale hand and wished it was Jorah's large swarthy one. She wouldn't feel guilty if she broke his hand than she would if she broke Catelyn's._

_"At last the head is crowning, Lady Lyanna. I need you to push."_

She bent down to kiss his little head of hair. _My baby. My firstborn son_. It was strange that he had no name yet. She wanted to call him something other than baby or my boy. Lyanna tried calling him after her lord father in private and in her head. However, her voice always choked, when she tried to say aloud the name Rickard.  _It was too soon._

The name Rodrik was a contender but she didn't feel it fit her son. Baby Mormont would have to do without a name for the present. Lyanna smiled as he gripped her finger in his sleep. She heard the door creak open and expected the maid delivering her meal tray or perhaps Catelyn. Lyanna didn't bother to turn around not wanting to look away from her son. No footsteps followed or the sound of a tray being placed on the table came. Lyanna quickly glanced at the door and the most unfeminine figure that stood in the doorway. Her lord husband stood there gazing at her and the cradle in awe.

"Jorah!" she exclaimed in happy shock. Lyanna had barely stood up from her seat before he was hugging her. She caressed his fine cheekbones. "Your beard has grown, my bear." His beard was more fuller than his usual scruff. They greeted each other with a kiss.

"I've missed you, love." She nodded and gestured to the cradle. Jorah crouched down to stare at their sleeping son.

"Our first babe, my love," breathed Jorah as if he was in a dreamy daze. Lyanna gently picked their son up without disturbing his sleep. She gestured for Jorah to sit in the chair.

"I present your unnamed heir of Bear Island," Lyanna proclaimed with a smile as she placed him in his father's strong arms.

"Unnamed? So you didn't name him Joramun in the end," said Jorah staring fondly at their child. Lyanna chuckled lightly as Jorah brushed a finger over the soft baby hair. "Rickard Mormont then?" Lyanna stiffened slightly and shook her head.

"No, I'd rather give him a name that doesn't give me any pain, my bear." _Maybe another son or a nephew shall be named for Father._ Jorah nodded sombrely and touched her arm.

"I wish I could have prevented your lord father's death. Spare you the pain of losing him so soon after your lady mother." Lyanna never asked for Jorah to protect her lord father or Brandon for her. It was not his fault her father had died. She saw the blue linen neckerchief she had given him and looked at their son. _You can't protect me from pain all the time._ Jorah and their son made her strong in her grief. They gave her a purpose to not wallow forever in grief and guilt. Poor Benjen was floundering despite Lyanna and Catelyn's efforts to help him heal and not to blame himself.

"You came back alive for us. I don't blame you at all for living." _Brandon and Ned were alive as well._ They tenderly stared at each other and their son quietly. Lyanna was elated and relieved to have Jorah with her and their son. She surprisingly ached now for Bear Hall. Lyanna would always love Winterfell. It was her childhood home, a place where she felt safe and secure. But her orphaned state dwelled heavily on her new status of motherhood. She had to no parent to see their second grandchild (Lya's firstborn) or see her happy as a mother and lady of Bear Island. Just her guilt for her lord father's death and the ghosts of her parents.

"What shall the future Lord of Bear Island be named?" Jorah decided to name their son Jon. It was a common name, but it was a strong name that Lyanna did not object to. Jon woke up hungry and Lyanna instinctively wanted to feed him herself but the wet nurse heard his hungry cries and took her boy away to the nursery to be fed. Lyanna blinked away a tear as she stared at the door. The emotions did not go away after birth.

"I'll bring Jon back for you." Jorah stood up and rubbed her shoulders.

"No, it's not proper for highborn ladies to nurse their babes," Lyanna protested to her concerned husband.

"My Aunt Maege fed her daughters herself. If you want to nurse our son yourself, you shall." But Maege was never concerned with being a proper lady. Lyanna truly wasn't either but some conventions she had been brought up with were hard to break. She knew next to nothing about motherhood and trusted Luwin's advice.

"But Maester Luwin said I was too weak after the birth to nurse that I could make Jon sick. And- aren't you concerned nursing will ruin the shape of my breasts?" She said the last bit self consciously.

"I'll like them either way, love. Do you want to feed Jon yourself?" She did but Luwin said her grief and melancholic moods could be transferred to her babe from nursing, that's why chipper wet nurses were hired. Lyanna could tell by the stubborn look on Jorah's face that whatever Lyanna wanted he would make sure she would get.

"No, I don't think I am in proper mood to so. Anyway, I can't be independent with Jon needing to be fed twelve times a day. His cries will disturbed our sleep," she rattled off. Lyanna thought about it and realized she wouldn't be staying at Winterfell forever. Who was going to care up in Bear Island that she flouted convention and fed her son herself? She already had been flouting conventions without a care. "The wet nurse is likely feeding Jon by now. I'll try for Jon's next feeding. I'd like to be alone with you until then." He seemed disappointed in her excuses, but he nodded when Lya stated she would try feeding their son. Lyanna kissed him enjoying his scratchy beard and his sweet mouth. It's been so long. Jorah grinned as he removed his armour.

"We can't make love until you've healed," he reminded her and himself. Lyanna gave a small nod and sat on her bed.

"Nevertheless, you are standing in a she-wolf's den, my bear," Lyanna enticed him with a coy smile. "My bed is rather small compared ours at home." It had fit her heavily pregnant self and thin Benjen easily after they found out about their lord father's death. Neither wanted to go to sleep alone or could fall asleep those first two weeks. So the two siblings lay there crying as they held each other's hand.

"I am very willing to be hunted." _Gods, I have missed your voice._ Lyanna squealed as he pinned her down on her back then flipped them so she was on top.

* * *

Brandon arrived at Winterfell almost a moon later with the bones of Lord Rickard Stark. The stone effigy of Lord Rickard had been finished just in time. Brandon came bearing news from the capital as well. Lyanna wasn't sure if it was just her eyes that were watery, when they knelt before Brandon as the new lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He kissed Catelyn and smiled at his daughter. Brandon congratulated Lya on the birth of her son and asked his name. They walked inside to the Great Hall, where Brandon relayed the news.

"Lord Robert has died from infected wounds. Ned's holding the city with the Lannister-Baratheon army. Your lord father and uncle think Ned should take the throne himself rather than hand it over to Stannis," Brandon announced as he picked up young Arya from Catelyn's arms. Lyanna contemplated the possibility of her sweet brother Ned as the King of Westeros. _A Stark on the Iron Throne, even Father never dreamed of that._ But she couldn't imagine Eddard wanting the Iron throne. It was not in his nature to desire such ambitions. 

"Has Lady Cersei Baratheon birthed her child yet? Perhaps, she and Lord Stannis will share regency if the baby is a boy?" asked Catelyn after she digested the news.

"Perhaps, but Ned wrote that he won't be leaving King's Landing until things have settled." _He won't be here for Father's funeral._ Lyanna frowned knowing there was a possibility she would have returned to Bear Island by time Ned returned to the North, to Winterfell. "I don't envy whoever takes the crown. They are going to have to deal with the threat of four living Targaryen children, Queen Rhaella has died giving birth to a daughter. Stannis' men have prevented any ships from leaving Dragonstone, but I don't know whether or not the two children have escaped to Dorne where Elia and her children have been hiding or wherever." _Rhaegar got a sister to be the Visenya._ Thinking of Rhaegar and any Targaryens made her sick. She leaned back against her bear's strong chest. His arms wrapped around her waist.

"Dorne and the Reach will want to reinstate Princess Elia's boy as king if not now but one day," pointed out Jorah. _Another war._ Brandon grunted in agreement and stated,

"By the sounds of the snippets I have heard, Lord Tyrell is more opportunistic than loyal to the Targaryen cause. He and his army returned to the Reach the moment news arrived of Rhaegar's death. He's hoping his eight year old daughter will one day become the next queen. Unless Princess Elia offers her son or Prince Viserys to his daughter. Who bloody knows?"

"It would be easier for whoever takes the crown for all the Targaryens to be dead," stated Jorah baldly. Lyanna shivered at the casual mention of murdering children as a solution. Lyanna raised an eyebrow as Brandon nodded slowly. Lyanna stiffened at her husband's touch. _Ned would never, I would never condone such a thing._

Brandon placed Arya in Catelyn's arms.

"We'll be in the Godswood, Cat," informed Brandon, his voice growing thick as he reached for Ben and Lya's hands. Jorah rubbed Lyanna's shoulder and she looked over to see him gaze at her supportively. Her horror at his morality dissipated and was forgotten the meantime. 

"You are all leaving me here. First Ned and Lya, now you too. I am the only one to live amongst their ghosts." He rounded on Ben.

"As lord of Winterfell, I forbid you to leave and join the Night's Watch," lashed Brandon emotionally. He sat down gloomily gripping the pommel of Ice. "I watched Father die." His grey eyes seemed to be reliving the moment. Lyanna looked away and stared at the red leaves on the ground. If that was intended to guilt Ben to stay at home; it appeared to have the reverse effect. Ben repeated that he was joining the Night's Watch.

"Ben, it wasn't your fault!" cried Lyanna for what seemed to be the thousandth time. "How could you have known that such a terrible thing would happen? Jorah would have told Father anyway." 

"No one is to blame," intoned Brandon. Some weight seemed to lift off Benjen's shoulders.

"I still want to join," Ben argued quietly. The trio sat listening to the leaves of the weirwoods. Brandon was never one for silence. 

"If being here is so terrible that you want to freeze your arse and balls off on the Wall, then go, but you have to wait for Ned to return." Lyanna glared at Brandon.

"No, Ben, you kept me from making a terrible decision and I am not going to let you make one either," growled Lyanna. 

"The Night's Watch needs men. Your good father is there," reasoned Ben.

"You are still a boy, Ben. Jeor Mormont had a life before he took the black. He married, served as a lord, and had a child." _What I thought I wanted at fourteen is different to what I want now._ "I'll see you even less if you join, little brother." 

"It's in my dreams, Lya," Ben whispered as he hugged her. Lyanna frowned and stroked his straight dark hair.

"Don't leave us," she begged softly. 

"There's no cakes at Castle Black," warned Brandon as he stared up at the face of the great weirwood. Ben smiled,

"I know, Brandon."

The three dressed in grey were now a bit more calmer and knelt down to pray to the Old Gods.

* * *

"You are going to hand him the Iron Throne! You got there before Stannis did! Why didn't you take it for yourself?" screamed Cersei at the tall dark northman. What was he doing here if he had not taken the throne for himself? "I was supposed to be the Queen! Gods, you are the most stupid, backwards man I have ever laid eyes on! Begone!" She would have married the northern fool to become queen.

"I came to pledge my sword to protect Robert's children, and you, my lady." Cersei scoffed derisively.

"You could protect my children by becoming king," she snarled.

"It was Robert's rebellion, the Iron throne should go his brother, a Baratheon. I believe more swords and knives or in this case spears would be aimed at them," Eddard argued quietly. Cersei seethed at the thought of the fucking Dornish trying to harm her daughters. The Mad King had touched her and murdered her Jaime for defending her. She was the Lioness of Casterly Rock and the Lady of Storm's End. Renly was still a boy but she suspected he would never have a child of his own. Her Myrcella would rule Storm's End like how Cersei had wanted to rule Casterly Rock as a child and the Seven Kingdoms, when she had been promised to be Rhaegar's queen. She would give her eldest child the power she wanted to wield. No Florent eared boy or girl would take what was her and Robert's daughters by right. The Iron Throne should be Cersei's.

"I will burn their cities to the ground if they touch my daughters," she vowed thinking of the Martells, Stannis and the Florents. Cersei deep down did not believe Stannis would harm his eldest niece. But it was easier to hate him if she did believe he would. Ned nodded. "The Gods have been cruel to me." The king rejected her marrying the beautiful Prince Rhaegar. _None of this would have happened if he and I had married._ Her Jaime, her twin, the love of her life was taken from her. Her handsome yet boar like lord husband who rose a rebellion against the crown to give her _the crown_ was dead. Their short union only produced three black haired daughters. Not even a golden child of Jaime's seed. Cersei had birthed twins and not one of them had been a boy. She couldn't become the mother of the King. Cersei didn't even name them, she was so disappointed. Robert's youngest brother Renly named them Cassana and Joanna.

_"For the lady mothers, we lost," he explained. The green eyed babe was named in honour of my mother Joanna and the blue eyed twin was named for Lady Cassana Baratheon of Houses Estermont and Baratheon._

"I hope Selyse dies in childbirth." _Ugly stupid thing isn't worthy to be the queen of Westeros._ Myrcella was second in line to the Iron Throne since Stannis was still childless. Ned flinched at her harsh words and tone.

"Queen Rhaella's infant daughter was brought to King's Landing. She's under Lord Arryn's protection for the time being. Darry and Prince Viserys escaped however across the Narrow Sea."

"Stannis only had one task." She ignored how he kept morale up during the blockade of Storm's End. "Why didn't Father take the crown and name me his heiress?"

"You have another brother at Casterly Rock." _Only Jaime cared for the little monster._

"It killed my lady mother." She poured herself a glass of wine and stared at it. Everyone is dead. Her lord father failed her and Jaime.

"Marry me, Cersei." Her green eyes widened in shock then in mirth. She tossed her golden hair haughtily.

"Don't be absurd, Stark." _You should taken the crown then asked me._ "Why would I marry you? You are a second son who inherits nothing. Where would we live? I am a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Go to that Dayne girl and leave me be." He grimaced at her words.

"I know my place in the world, my lady. But I would protect your daughters and you." Eddard Stark stood tall and proud as he did before he departed alongside Robert. _A soldier like Maggy said._ Robert was a soldier at heart as well. Yet, it was Eddard Stark who stood before her alive. He looked annoyed to speak of Ashara Dayne, "She's dead, but I am leaving soon to go to Winterfell. I wish you a merry wedding to Lord Arryn." Stark's voice was full of rage but he looked guilty and added, "He's a good man, like a second father to me. A great lord." Cersei spat out her wine. Lord Jon Arryn was older than her lord father.

"That's a lie! Lysa Tully is to marry him!" _Are the gods punishing me for preventing Lysa from marrying my Jaime?_

"It's not, my lady. He's been made the Hand of the King and with Elbert's death. Lord Tywin proposed-"

"Father has sold me to the ancient falcon the moment Robert was pronounced dead." She sat there seething with revulsion and fury. "Why weren't you appointed by Stannis? You were Robert's greatest friend and you led his army into King's Landing in his name? Where's your reward?" _Where's my crown?_ Eddard stared at her levelly.

"Because I am a second son who inherits nothing but a small keep in the North whenever I do marry. I'm not a powerful great lord with an army like Lord Jon or Brandon. They are meant to be Hands and fathers of queens, not I. I am not meant to be-" Eddard Stark stated those facts devoid of emotion. _He's as powerless as I am._ Though she imagined he didn't desire power as much as she did. He opened his mouth then closed it as he changed his mind. He finally spoke, "I should leave you be. Forgive my unwanted proposal."

Her green eyes regarded Eddard Stark as he walked away. He was not as golden and perfect as her Jaime or as strong and handsome as Robert had been. He was far more comely than Stannis or both comelier and younger than old Lord Jon Arryn. Eddard was a cold, dour young man but she had noted he was not weak or uncaring. Eddard had in his quiet manner shamed Robert for whoring with the serving girls during a feast in front of Cersei. Which caused an argument between the two friends, resulting in Eddard leaving for the Eyrie until they became friends again after she and Robert fled the capital. Eddard joined Robert's rebellion without waiting for his lord father.

_"I suppose my sister was right about him," said Eddard as he walked up to her in the gardens. Cersei had stormed off before she slapped her lord husband and the serving whore. She wiped her tears before she turned and sneered at him with her arms crossed._

_"How lovely to hear. Your sister jilted him and then got the attention of the crown prince I was supposed to marry. I don't see how she could have if she looks anything like you. Father told me she's married the poorest and ugliest of you northerner lords." Eddard did not take the bait and remained quiet._ _"Jaime's a better man than he is." Jaime would never shame her ever._

_"You are right, I don't think Robert could take a vow of celibacy."_

_Her mind was still on her twin. "You and I could carry an torrid affair for years and he wouldn't ever notice." Ned gave her a sharp look then looked away before he awkwardly spoke,_

_"We wouldn't because it would be wrong and dishonourable to do such a thing to my friend and your lord husband. Robert cares for you and Myrcella." Cersei laughed that he assumed that she was speaking of him. But she thought about Robert's relationship with her and their daughter. Stark respected her more than Robert did. She was beginning to see that only Myrcella could hold Robert's attention and interest for long. He liked to carry her around and boast to everyone how beautiful and strong his little Myrcella was. They shared one common interest at least._

_"He's gifted our five moon old daughter, a miniature war hammer. What would you give your future daughter?"_

_"A doll? I know I would have every bell ring in honour of her birth." Cersei smiled for the first time at Robert's northern friend._

_"Only you would rejoice the birth of a daughter as if she were a crown prince. Why have you come to speak to me?"_

_"I am leaving for the Eyrie. I came to say farewell, my lady and to see if you are alright," he answered honestly._

_"Robert has ordered you to leave," she surmised, "Well, I bid you a safe journey, my lord." Eddard gave her a nod before walking the way he came. Cersei watched him until he was out of sight._

This time, Cersei followed after Eddard. She wasn't going to marry Jon Arryn even to become the lady wife of the Hand. Jon Arryn won't live forever. He was in his sixties. She would make sure Eddard would rise to become Stannis' Hand and see that one of her daughters would become the Queen. _If only Eddard Stark just took the throne himself. If only I could have taken the Iron throne myself._

"Father won't be pleased when he learns that we have married. We will say Robert commanded you to marry me if he should not recover and die. You are fulfilling your dear departed friend's wish. He named us protectors of Myrcella and the twins." Eddard turned and looked at her in mild surprise and shock. "Or is that too complicated a lie for you? I am demanding that we take the seat of Dragonstone. Renly is too young to rule Dragonstone for Stannis and his wife's ingratiating Florent relations have risen far enough. Robert went to war for me not for Stannis or that ugly Florent woman." Who would dare challenge her.

"I shall see you again in the capital for our wedding, my queen." Cersei had never been so taken aback in her life.

"What?!" she gasped loudly. Her heart pounded. "You took the Iron Throne?" Eddard shifted uncomfortably.

"Lord Jon has tried to convince me to do so. He thinks I am the best man to become king, but I have asked him for some time to think. I still feel it should go to Stannis. You shouted at me before I could say anything." Cersei stared at the walls. Stannis could have his _rightful_  ancestral castle. "But you said Father was marrying me to Lord Arryn. You could have said something somewhere in between or sent a letter. Why come here and not send for me?"

"Lord Lannister was given the impression that I was seeking another lady's hand. I am on my way to Winterfell to pay my respects to my lord father and see my siblings. I came also to say goodbye to Robert." Eddard looked so painfully mournful that even Cersei felt sympathy for him.

"I am sorry for your lord father's death. Is that why you took the crown? Because Prince Rhaegar killed your lord father in battle?"

"Tis' not the reason," he confessed sombrely. "I'm still considering it, my lady." _This is my golden chance. I won't let you change your mind._

"You don't consider taking the Iron Throne, you do or you don't. You should have guards to protect you. You are the king now."

"I have Lord Howland Reed. There's not much of a kingsguard left." _Dead like Jaime or exiled._

"A crannogman," she scoffed derisively. _I could defend you better than a mudman._

"I would not be alive, if weren't for Howland Reed. He's a brave man," he defended honestly. She wondered how a mudman kept Eddard from death.

"Oh, well-" Cersei took the aloof man's hand and kissed his cheek. He looked at her shyly and squeezed her hand gently. Queen I shall be, mother of eight. I shall be Queen Cersei Stark. "I accept your proposal, King Eddard."

"And if I choose to remain just a second son?" She thought of her daughters, and thought of a life up in the Vale married to old Lord Arryn. Arryn's decrepit body on top of her. Cersei shuddered. She bit back her growls that he was a fool to not take the Iron Throne.

"We are living on Dragonstone. I won't live in some minuscule stone shack you northerners call a keep."

* * *

Jorah sat soothing Jon as he fussed in Jorah's arms. Ned Stark had arrived at Winterfell a day ago. Lyanna was with her brothers in the crypts. Maege had certainly tarried returning from the Riverlands. He commented on this.

"Bears like to fish, y'know," said Maege. He frowned disapprovingly but said nothing. It would appear that he was going to have another little cousin. "What a fine boy you have, my nephew. A full head of hair. You were bald as a babe." Jon started to cry in hunger.

"He's hungry." Jorah was about to call for the wet nurse, since Lyanna did not seem to returning to her childhood chamber anytime soon. Lyanna burst through the door. Maege smiled before she exited the chamber.

"I'm sorry, my baby," Lya breathed as she undid the front of her gown. She sat down on the bed and Jorah walked over to her, handing over their hungry child. Lya's eyes were a little red from crying, but she did not look so forlorn.

"Has he been crying for long?" She asked with a look of guilt. Jorah reassured her that Jon hadn't for long. He climbed on the other side of Lya and lay there watching Jon suckle his mother's breast. Jorah still could not believe his child was real.

"I'm afraid we may not return to Bear Island as soon as we expected, my bear," she announced quietly.

"Why?" He had thought Lya was itching to return to his logged keep. They had waited for nearly two moons for Ned's return.  _Did she want to spend more time with Ned?_

"My brother is going to be the King of Seven Kingdoms. Ned is marrying Lady Cersei Lannister." Jorah blinked in surprise. "Thinking about it, he always wrote about her in his letters. _Her golden hair_ and _her sharp wit_."

"I suppose, it will be safer with your brother on the Iron Throne." As much as he longed to go home, Jorah would go anywhere if it meant a safer world for his family.

"Will sweet Ned be safer with the Lannisters? In King's Landing?" Lya's lovely face was filled with worry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I apologize that I don't ship Ned/Ashara. Nothing against the character. I just don't see a way for them to end up together in my story with Dorne harbouring Rhaegar's children.
> 
> Secondly, I apologize, if it's unbelievable for Ned to want/get some time to consider being king. In my story, he's slowly developed a mild crush/attraction to his dead best friend's widow. So he's conflicted over whether its more honourable to take the throne and make Robert's widow queen (the rebellion started over Aerys' assault on her) or let Stannis/someone else take the Iron throne.
> 
> Thanks for the reviews. Let me know what you think of this chapter! :)


	5. V

Lyanna wrinkled her nose at the stench of King's Landing as they rode up to the Red Keep. White Harbour had seemed busy and populated to her, when she visited as a child with her parents. The capital of the seven kingdoms was a thousand times more. Every inch was covered in buildings over various materials and a vast disparity of quality, which showcased the extreme poverty and immense wealth. She saw it in the people she past by. It was so much warmer here than in the Riverlands. Lyanna was quickly growing uncomfortable in her lightest of wool northern gowns. _Jorah is going to get his wish to see me clad in gowns of silk and Myrish lace._ Lyanna could not fathom how Jorah seemed unfazed by the muggy heat in his thick green wool and steel armour. 

The crowds that lined the narrow streets and alleys of curious people to get a glimpse of their new young king and his family. It felt strange to see the masses bend the knee to her brother, some exclaiming "Yer Grace!" The lords and their sons of the North also journeyed to King's Landing as guards and to see Rickard's secondborn ascend the Iron Throne. A son of Lord Manderly pledged to join the Kingsguard. Other banner houses of the North were uncertain about their male kin taking the white cloak over the matter of the vows being to the Seven not to the Old Gods. But, their loyalty to the Starks would likely overcome their religious qualms. Lyanna glanced over at her younger brother. She wondered if Ben would still take the black or change his mind and take become a member of Ned's Kingsguard. As they reached the Great Keep, she recognized Lord Arryn by his age and the falcon on his clothes. He was old and toothless but his aquiline nose and classic features denoted that Lord Jon Arryn was once a handsome man in his prime. Lord Arryn knelt with a fatherly smile before Ned. He was a strong man when men slowly grew feeble with age. 

"Welcome home, King Eddard." Lyanna's mouth twitched as she stopped herself from retorting that the south was not were a Stark belonged. Ned's visits to their home in the North would be fewer and rarer now that he was king. Ned dismounted and motioned for everyone to rise. He embraced Lord Jon Arryn before turning to introduce them. His face changed from being her brother to the face of a king. 

"My brother Brandon, Lord of Winterfell, the Warden of the North and his lady wife, Lady Catelyn." Ned turned to her, "My sister, Lady Lyanna Mormont and Lord Jorah Mormont, Lord of Bear Island. And this is my younger brother, Benjen Stark."

"Welcome to King's Landing," greeted the elderly falcon. They were ushered inside and offered refreshments of wine and nectar. They had barely taken a sip before Lord Arryn led Ned away to another chamber to speak to him privately. Brandon had made to go with Ned, but the door was shut closed. Brandon glared but said nothing.The opulence of the castle was overwhelming. Lyanna tentatively drank the Myrish glass goblet of nectar she was offered. Ben looked as out of place as she felt. Jorah and Catelyn made small talk about the structural _something something_ of the building.

"What are they talking about that is so secret?" wondered Brandon impatiently, pacing the length of the room.

"You'll find out soon enough, Brandon. I suspect Ned will appoint you Master of something on the Small Council," Lyanna sighed, though she too was burning with curiosity.

"I suppose." A door burst open by an annoyed golden haired young woman with flashing green eyes followed by a manservant.

"Where's Eddard? Why wasn't I sent for to greet him? I am to be his queen!" she snarled. Lyanna almost laughed that Robert's widow did not seem to be at all grieving his death. "This is all the fault of the old coot Arryn!" Her green gaze rested on the Starks and their spouses.

"Ned is with the old coot, my lady," smirked Brandon with a bark-like laugh. Catelyn's blue eyes widened at Brandon's casual tone in mimicking Cersei's insult of the Warden of the Vale. Catelyn rose from her seat next to Lyanna to stand next to Brandon. Jorah rose as well, practically lifting Lyanna from her seat.

"I see." Cersei regained her composure. "You are his brother Lord Brandon Stark and this is your lady wife. Lord Hoster Tully's daughter." Her politeness seemed almost forced. Cersei had long mane of golden curly hair. She was beautiful. Her gown was gold as if she were already a queen. The gown was exquisite but quite garishly low cut for a widow. Nor was there any black to suggest mourning. Her green eyes landed on Lyanna with a sharp gaze.

"I am sorry for your losses, Lady Baratheon," declared Catelyn honestly and politely. "I remember your brother's visit to Riverrun. I pity your daughters that they will never know their uncle and their lord father." Cersei seemed saddened at the mention of Jaime Lannister. 

"Yes, it's quite tragic, Lady Stark. Thank you for your words." Her face was honest in her sadness but in a flash a brilliant white smile replaced it. "I hope you give similar comfort to your sister." Catelyn looked puzzled. "It seems your sister may marry not a son of Lord Walder Frey or a Florent like my _dear_ good brother Stannis after all."

* * *

"Daenerys Stormborn is what she is called by the wet-nurse," said Lord Jon. "Queen Rhaella died shortly after her birth." Ned nodded slightly staring at the orphaned infant.

"The other son? Prince Viserys?"

"He escaped with Ser Willem Darry across the Narrow Sea. Dorne has thankfully not gained another exiled Targaryen, but..." The word yet hung between them unsaid.

"You say Lord Tywin Lannister wants to have her killed before I marry Cersei." Lord Jon nodded. _Would I turn a blind eye to the murder an innocent child for Cersei?_

"Yes. He believes it will show strength to Dorne that Targaryen rule will not be reinstated. Your enemies will raise banners for this child and she will threaten your rule or your children's." Ned knew this. But he also knew he could not kill a child whose's only injustice to him was her parentage and name. "Think carefully, Ned." Ned nodded and he wished to return to his brother and sister. 

"Anything else?" 

"Yes, Your Grace." How strange it was to be addressed as such by Lord Jon. "Lord Tyrell offers his daughter as your future queen." Ned blinked in surprise at the turn of the conversation.

Ned snorted, "A girl of four?"

"Lady Alerie Tyrell is the second born daughter of twelve healthy children. Her daughter may one day prove to be just as fertile."

"The Tyrells fought against us, if you recall, my lord," reminded Ned with a frown, remembering fighting the men of the Reach in the Stormlands alongside Robert. Lord Arryn stroked his white beard thoughtfully.

"Aye, they did. I believe they have been reminded their rule is tenuous by the marriage of Stannis Baratheon to a Florent girl, not to a sister of Lord Mace's."

"Then why do you suggest I betroth myself to his daughter?" wondered Ned. 

"I have been thinking perhaps- in the longterm. It may be wise to make offers to the Tyrells so they won't revert back to their Targaryen support. With the exception of the Florents, they are popular in the Reach. They have the wealth and resources to undo everything we have fought for. I fear young Margaery Tyrell will be used by Dorne as Aegon's stepping stone back to the Iron Throne. Reach is what lies in between King's Landing and Dorne." He paused and with a shrug, "Though I suppose offering your younger brother may appease Lord Tyrell." Ned thought of Ben and his desire to join to the Night's Watch. It felt strange to Ned, that he had the power to arrange a betrothal for his younger brother if he wished. Ned stared at the Targaryen infant. Would he disregard Ben's wishes to protect his 'new' realm from another war?

"It will be a decade at the very least before she is old enough to be wedded and bear children," pointed out Ned to himself and Jon. He thought of Cersei's golden hair and her parting kiss. He coughed, "The Lannisters need to be appeased for their efforts in the war."

"Cersei has only borne three daughters." _I promised to protect her and Robert's children._ Ned ignored Jon Arryn.

"I need heirs sooner than a decade from now. I may promise to wed my heir to Lord Tyrell's daughter." _If I can't bring myself to force Ben into doing so._ Jon nodded but his face grew old at the mention of an heir.

"Oh Ned, my boy, I pray you have sons. I shall have to name a new heir to my seat and pray he outlives poor Elbert and myself." Daenerys Targaryen started to fuss gaining to the attention of the two men again.

"Living Targaryens are a threat to you and any children you shall have, Ned," Jon reminded again. 

"Only ones with armies or gold to buy an army." _I'll ask Brandon if he would take the girl as a ward back to Winterfell. Far away from Dorne._ Ned loved and missed the North terribly but it was a very isolating place for those not of Northern blood. She may not survive the cold. "I shall tell Lord Lannister myself that I won't take stipulations from him. Either I marry Cersei or I shall-" He paused, "Look for a wife elsewhere." 

"Very well." Lord Arryn looked once more at the baby. "I suppose Mad King Aerys' daughter could join an order of septas, before she gains her moonblood to ensure she doesn't breed."

* * *

 

Cersei stood next to her lord father throughout the coronation ceremony. She was peeved that Lord Arryn and Eddard decided that he would be crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms before they married, before she was made his queen consort. Everything was in Stark colours, which in Cersei's opinion clashed with the throne room. The Lannister lion in gold on a cloth of red would look better than these shades of gray and the snarling wolf. Cersei stared at her future good brothers and sisters all dressed in the same dreadful sombre shades. Catelyn Tully had some blue in her gown and Eddard's sister Lyanna wore a grey and forest green velvet gown. The trumpets sounded in announcing Eddard's arrival from his procession from the Great Sept of Baelor. Cersei had tried to be helpful in offering suggestions on his coronation attire, but Eddard simply kissed her hand and politely declined. 

His crown was gold, glittering with large diamonds, silver and grey gemstones. Cersei scrutinized his clothes and was impressed with the blending of the Stark colours and the royal cloth of gold. She noticed Eddard's brown hair had been shorn two inches. She had to admit he was pleasing to the eye in his own way. Never would she have believed that she would marry Robert's upright and quiet friend.  _I am going to marry him._ Cersei glanced at Lord Arryn, Eddard's appointed Hand.  _He's not marrying some Waynwood girl or some little girl of Highgarden._ Cersei was destined to be a queen and the mother of kings and queens. Cersei stood up straighter and smoothed a curl as Eddard walked near. He looked serious and sombre as per usual, but as he walked past her. They locked eyes and she swore he gave her a small smile. Cersei smiled broadly and remembered the feel of his cool lips on hers. She was engrossed with her thoughts that she did not listen to words officially proclaiming Eddard, king. 

Everyone bowed to their knees, when Eddard sat on the Iron Throne as King Eddard Stark, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. She beamed up at him. An odd traitorous thought came to her that Jaime never looked half as regal and handsome as Eddard did sitting on the Iron Throne. Her smile faltered in guilt.

* * *

 

"Jorah, how badly does Ned need me to marry the Tyrell girl?" asked Ben during the royal wedding feast. Ned had been crowned king for almost two moons before the wedding. "He said I wouldn't have to if he has a son soon."

"Depends how fast and how willing the Martells are to seek an alliance with the Tyrells." Ben bit his lip and glanced over at his kingly brother.

"I sort of wanted to become a ranger." Benjen pushed his food around his plate. "I'll be four or five and twenty, if I marry Margaery Tyrell properly and I'll have live on Dragonstone." Jorah was perplexed by Benjen. Jorah would never ever seriously or even jokingly consider taking the black. It was as if Ben was going to marry a Frey or a homely looking girl like Jorah's first wife. Not that Jorah had any certainty that Margaery Tyrell would grow to be pretty or not. Any third son would dream of the opportunity to rule a castle and have a fair lady wife. Jorah glanced down at his lady wife. Lyanna was dressed in grey silk that clung to her thin frame. Her hair was coiffed in the simplest, understated updo style out of all the ladies in the feast. Lyanna's lady mother's necklace was far simpler than all the gold wedding finery Queen Cersei was decked in.

"Did I stain the gown already?" Lyanna asked him when she caught him staring at her.

"Merely admiring you, my love." Lyanna blushed and rolled her eyes before she stole some food off his plate.

"Well if you are just going to sit there and ogle at me." Jorah kissed her neck.

"Jorah, people are staring. It's not our wedding. My brother is the king now, have some propriety," she hissed.

"You would never know Ned was the bridegroom. He looks like he is going to be hanged," observed Jorah. Cersei elicited some small smiles from Ned but other than that he looked completely awkward.

"Ned is just nervous. He must be a bit guilty for marrying Cersei so soon after Robert's death without a proper mourning period," whispered Lya in explanation. Jorah's eyes traveled to another table to where Lord Stannis and his lady wife sat stiff and unsociable. _Is he sour that he is not the King? Or does he find the minstrels' voices grating as well?_ Lord Tywin Lannister sat on the other side of his daughter looking stern. Jorah noted Tywin's frown deepened, when his dwarf son spoke to Brandon. Jorah's attention was diverted back to Lyanna as she pressed a hand on his thigh.

"Jorah, what's that in the tureen again? Is it any good?"

"A spicy broth with clams and fish. It's quite nice." Lyanna made a little shrug and a serving maid ladled some into a bowl for Lyanna. "I thought you weren't fond of spice?"

"It's not so bad if there's flagons of ale at the ready just incase the spice is too much for me," said Lya after she had tried a couple of spoonfuls. Jorah smiled and ate what Lya had left on his plate. "Ned said he wouldn't be offended if we retired early to see Jon." Her grey eyes were filled with anxiety at being away from their child. He rubbed her arm gently.

"Will there be a bedding ceremony?" whispered Benjen with a snicker.

"Urgh, not excited to see my brother be stripped naked by all of the ladies," groaned Lya with a laugh. "I am retiring before then. We'll dance a couple of dances then retire to our chambers." 

* * *

Lyanna looked around for Jorah after the awkward dance with Karstark ended. She did not find him amongst the other dancers or the people sitting or milling about the banquet tables. Lya frowned at the oddness. He was always there standing and waiting to 'rescue' her from dance partners that weren't him or her brothers.

"Lady Lyanna." Lyanna spun around to see Cersei walked over to her. Lya curtsied in surprise, remembering Cersei's new station.

"Your Grace."

"I realized I haven't properly spoken with you in all the time you have been at King's Landing." Lyanna glanced at Ned sitting in his royal place at the high table conversing with Ben. She wondered if Ned had anything to do with this unexpected talk.

"You have been busy, Your Grace." Cersei gave a half smile.

"I have heard much about you, Lady Mormont."

"Oh, Your Grace?"

" _The wild northern beauty,_ they call you. You were once betrothed to a handsome great lord and you was crowned the queen of love and beauty by a prince. Yet you end up married a poor and unhandsome old bannerman of the north." _Your first husband and the man you thought you would marry._

"I wanted a choice." Minus her lord father's death, Lyanna's choice got what she wanted. "I didn't want to be Robert's wife or to become a princess or a queen. The  _handsome great lord_ married you instead." Cersei's eyes looked down slightly at Lyanna's honesty. But she haughtily sneered,

"I still fail to see what is the fuss about you that Prince Rhaegar caused a scandal over you."

"I still fail to see what my brother was thinking marrying you and making you his queen, sister," hissed Lyanna evenly with a cold smile. She could feel Ned staring at them now. Cersei's green eyes glanced in Ned's direction and kept herself from snapping back at Lyanna.

"For an unhandsome man, Lord Jorah seems to be quite in love with you," said Cersei grudgingly her nostrils still flared in anger.

"Ned seems to quite like you. He mentioned you in every letter that he wrote to me," admitted Lyanna. _You aren't worthy of my sweet brother Ned._ Lyanna could tell she had thrown Cersei off. Cersei seemed awkwardly conflicted.

"His Grace, King Eddard is a- a kind man. I was going to come to gloa- warn you, about your lord husband." Lyanna raised an eyebrow. "Lord Hightower's youngest daughter is quite spirited and impressed by your lord husband defeating Ser Barristan Selmy. I fail to see why though your lord husband is rather ugly." Cersei took Lyanna's arm as Lyanna's grey eyes narrowed at the implication. Cersei led Lyanna to the west wall of the ornately decorated ballroom, where they found a few people talking and drinking or observing the dancing. Lyanna caught sight of her lord husband's wintergreen wool and velvet clothes. A girl of sixteen or so dressed in a rich blue damask gown stood in front of Jorah. She was holding a cup of wine and touched Jorah's arm. Lyanna's gray eyes narrowed.

"Why thank you, my lord! It's alright. My lord father will have new shoes made for me. As many as I wish." She gave Jorah a dazzling smile. "How brave and chivalrous you are! Why hasn't the king knighted you for defeating Ser Barristan Selmy? You would make a fine knight." Her voice was like bells and her cheeks were rosy. Lya wanted to gag, when Jorah grinned at the compliment. The girl was a few years younger than Lyanna. Beautiful, blonde and far more well figured than Lyanna was even after birthing a child.

"Lady Lynesse, your father, Lord Hightower has been looking for you," beckoned Cersei imperiously with a cold face.

"Oh my shoe broke, whilst I was dancing with Lord Mormont, my queen." Lynesse Hightower jumped and her blue eyes widened in shock. Nevertheless she stood up straight and proud, when she addressed Cersei before curtseying.

"Is my lord husband, a cobbler?" snapped Lyanna. Lynesse took notice of Lyanna and looked at her with a curious appraising look. Once Queen Cersei and Lady Lynesse were out of earshot, Lyanna growled at her husband,

"She's wrong, you aren't chivalrous. If you were, you would have saved me from having to dance with Lord Karstark." She looked Jorah in the eye. "I always knew you had a preference for fair hair." Jorah tensed defensively as he always did, when they argued. _Don't make a scene at Ned's wedding, she told herself._

"It was a dance." Lyanna stalked away. 

"Lyanna, I love you and our boy the most in this world. Neither of you have fair hair." Jorah's face slightly cracked under Lyanna's iron glare. The man was too proud. He touched her arm and tucked an errant dark ringlet behind her ear. "I was merely being polite. I didn't do anything. I didn't encourage her or make stupid promises to her. I am quite satisfied by you and I am very much in love with you, my jealous wolf wife." His voice was proud, but his eyes were desperate. Lyanna was rarely the jealous one. Some bold crofter's wives earned her ire, but nothing like this. Jorah was making jabs at Rhaegar and at Lyanna's silly old love for the deceased crown prince. Lyanna knew that Jorah found Lynesse pretty and Lya also knew her husband was not the most charming person. Yet Lynesse Hightower seemed charmed by him. Lyanna looked away from him. "Lyanna, I would never break my vows to you."

"I know, I just thought I was only one you thought was beautiful." Back at Bear Island, Lyanna's beauty outshone everyone. Catelyn was far more beautiful than Lynesse Hightower yet Jorah never looked at their good-sister like he did at the Hightower girl. Even golden haired Cersei did not receive a second glance from Jorah, whilst Brandon had smirked approvingly at their brother's bride, when Catelyn was not around.

"Lya-" His deep gravelly voice was drowned out by the ribald sounds of the bedding ceremony. She pushed his large hands off her waist and walked away in the direction of their chambers. Lyanna could hear his footsteps following her. She increased her pace to reach the chamber faster where the nurse maid was watching her baby Jon. She politely dismissed the maid until Lyanna would retire for the night and placed her sleepy babe against her warm chest. Lyanna did not look up, when Jorah entered the chamber and removed his boots. She saw his hairy feet stand before her.

"Nothing is more beautiful than this," he declared softly as he sat down on the floor. "I fought for you, I love you. I fought for this." For a man who rarely spoke, he had the voice of thick warm honey. Lyanna wanted to stay firm and angry with him. _Cersei is wrong, he is handsome. Too handsome to stay angry at._

"She's seems the type that would hate our home and all the lovely spots on the island you took me," she criticized petulantly, wanting to remain righteously angry.

"As much as you would have disliked living here in King's Landing?"

"Rhaegar is dead, Jorah. You know I hate it here and how much I want to go back to Bear Island. I know you love me but you are too proud to admit you thought that girl was beautiful." Jorah bristled and brooded silently in response. Lyanna wasn't in the mood to fill his sullen silences this time. After what seemed like forever, Jorah finally spoke,

"I was watching you dance with Ethan Glover and she came up to me. It was like the songs and the stories. Her calling me a knight and the dancing. It was only suppose to be one dance and I was going to reclaim you for another dance. I felt like-" He gestured with his hands and unable to vocalize.

"I know what you mean, Rhaegar made me feel the same." Jorah clenched his fists at the mention of Rhaegar.

"It was just a dance and a half then her shoe broke. Then I saw you and Queen Cersei, I-" _Woke up from a cloudy dream. Like I did when I saw my sword you gifted me._

"What a pair of fools we are, my bear, my husband." She stroked the side of his bearded face, which Jorah made a noise of contentment. Lyanna was still a bit jealous of the beautiful Lady Lynesse as was Jorah of Rhaegar. He looked at the dragon heads and other decor that related to the Targaryens that hadn't been removed yet with hatred. He never left Lya's side as if the dead Rhaegar would snatch Lya from around a corner. Lyanna looked down at Jon and saw he had fallen fast asleep. Jorah stood up before gently removing him from her arm and placing him in the cradle. Lyanna tucked the soft wool blanket over Jon half way. 

"He's going to be tall," she murmured. "And just as brave as you." _Likely, stubbornly proud as well._ Lyanna wasn't going to change and start becoming one of those girls who simpered and fawned just so Jorah would feel manly. She considered herself quite liberal with her compliments even though she rarely touched Jorah's feat in defeating the Lord Commander of the Mad King Aery's kingsguard. Of course, Lyanna was impressed. "Jon's going to boast about your every victory and how proud he is to be your son." Jorah bent down to kiss Jon's forehead. Lyanna smiled at Jorah puffing out his chest with pride. He was less quieter than Ned and slightly less boastful as Brandon. 

"His beautiful mother was in tourney before I will. She's quite fierce with a sword." Jorah did not look away from sleeping Jon. 

"His mother is tired of wearing silk." Lyanna undid the two pearl clasps on the straps of her gown and let the billowy grey silk fall at her feet. Jorah turned his head at the soft sound of the gown. "You can sleep with it or maybe Hightower will wear it for you." How easily she could say barbed remarks, when her jealously returned. Jorah gaped at her in surprise and arousal before he took in her words.

"Lya," he said frustrated looking her in the eye not her naked form. "How long are you stay angry about this?"

"Until I am thoroughly satisfied that I am yours and you are mine." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to do with Benjen.  
> I am on the fence about letting him take the black since as canon Old Bear stated that the quality of recruits hasn't been all that great. Or to have him become Lord of Dragonstone because who else would take it. Sure, Renly could but he's not Ned's brother. 
> 
> What do you all think?


	6. VI

Jorah had been accosted into a conversation with some zealous social climbing nobles. He made no effort to be courteous as he was asked about his good brother, King Eddard, and if Jorah would be so kindly to give them a chance to have an audience with Eddard. He tuned them out as he blatantly scanned around for his lady wife. Lyanna was the one he needed to be so kindly to. Gods, she was not quiet about her displeasure and she was so stubborn in her insistence that he had done something wrong. _I did nothing wrong._ There was no other woman whose side he'd rather be. In Jorah's mind, he had not broken any vow to his lady wife, when he had danced with the Lady Lynesse Hightower. Jorah had not sought out Lady Lynesse, though talking and dancing with her was not a cause for pain. He had found Lady Lynesse as beautiful as the morning sunrise. _As the Maiden herself, descended upon earth._ Lynesse Hightower had flattered him in her awe of him. True to his House's words, his loyalty and his heart stood with the stubborn brown haired wolf maid who evaded him like the plague.

"My lord? My lady wife was wondering if our daughter could become a handmaiden of the Queen's. If you could put a good word-" Jorah scowled harshly at the man, causing the man go red and his wife to blanched.

"Excuse me," interrupted Jorah as he strode away in search of Lya. The Great Keep was far too vast for his liking especially since he didn't know where Lyanna was. The court was lukewarm at the northern invasion of King's Landing. Even Lady Lynesse Hightower had wrinkled her nose at some of his fellow northern lords. Bear Hall was so small that he and Lyanna were forced to air their arguments eventually. How odd that it was him seeking her out this time. He was the one to sulk off in silence. Jorah was resolved to have things between them return to normal today. No more lying in bed without touching or speaking. Jorah was at his wits' end on what to do. He had browsed the market stalls to purchase something that would gain him Lyanna's pretty smiles back. The sun was high, when Jorah finally found his lady wife. Lyanna was neither sulking or silent. In fact, she was not alone and did not look at sad or angry. Lya sat next to Lord Howland Reed amongst the roses of the royal gardens.

"What is it like, Howland? The Isle of Faces. Do tell more about it," pressed Lyanna with eagerness. Lord Howland Reed stroked his beard thoughtfully, his green eyes looking at Lyanna softly. Howland Reed was clearly in his early twenties despite being of slightly shorter stature than Lyanna. "You were there for a long period of time. I remember you missed Father's letter." Jorah frowned wondering if there was any further meaning in her words. Did she now prefer to have married her friend rather than be married to Jorah? He knew that they had become friends at the tournament at Harrenhal. Howland leaned over and whispered in Lyanna's ear. Lyanna's smile froze and her grey eyes landed on Jorah.

"Is there something wrong with Jon, my lord husband?" worried Lyanna formally.

"He is well," soothed Jorah. He walked closer. Lyanna looked like a cornered wolf or was it all in his head? Howland Reed stood up and inclined his head to Jorah. Jorah paid him the same respect and did not miss Lyanna's pleading look at Howland Reed. Howland Reed bid them a good day and walked down the lane. "I have been looking for you, love."

"Well you found me," retorted Lyanna. Jorah had to take a deep breath to keep his exasperation at minimum. By her hard grey eyes, Lyanna wanted a fight, well today he wasn't going to give in.

"I thought you would like to go to see the market stands with me," offered Jorah. She sat there for a few moments before she spoke. 

"I won't be bought. I won't forget because of a trinket," warned Lyanna as she stood up. Jorah was glad he did not buy the earbobs that cost a small fortune. She hooked her arm in his and held his hand. "It was nice to catch up with Howland even if it got cut short."

"I haven't the opportunity to speak to Lord Reed yet. He seems like an odd one," he could not help but add. Lyanna looked at him sharply and hit his arm.

"He is a dear friend of mine. He is brave and clever. Howland has a daughter of the same age as Arya. Meera is her name. He says her hair is brown and green eyes like his." Her voice was soft and dreamy. 

"We shall have daughters of our own with your eyes," smiled Jorah as he thought of walking through the pine forest alongside little daughters with Lyanna's lovely looks.

"Bored of our Jon already," chuckled Lyanna.

"Of course not," protested Jorah with a tiny smile. The market was hotter and far more packed than it had been hours earlier. A fusion of different smells hit Jorah's nose. He guided them through the crowds and stopped at every stall or cart Lyanna was interested in. She peered at the fruits and spices from different parts Essos with interest and curiosity. People called out to them peddling their foodstuffs to them. Young boys and girls came by hawking today's price on cockles and an elderly woman selling flowers came up to Lyanna. Jorah bought them two hand pies filled with lamb meat, peas, and potatoes. Jorah thought this outing had smoothed Lyanna's jealously over already. By appearance, Lyanna was in a good mood with him. She had smiled at him and clutched his arm. No sign of her being cross with him. Jorah had seen Lyanna's grey eyes linger over at the stand with jewellery and metal figurines more than once. He would go over there buy whatever she wanted. He was about to ask if she saw anything in particular. However, Lyanna turned and looked at him as they ate their flaky pastry.

"I'm sure Lady Lynesse would rather die than deign walking amongst the small folk here in the market."

"Lya," started Jorah almost tiredly. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, then loosened the blue linen scarf around his neck.

"Don't Lya me," she snapped though her eyes softened at the sight of the blue scarf. "Are you going to smile and puff out your chest at every fair maiden who compliments you? I won't tolerate it." He looked away and watched people in the crowds. Jorah knew by now, nothing was easy with Lyanna. She was a trying trial. 

"No," he vowed seriously as he turned back to look at her in the eye. "Just this one." Jorah had expected his hand to swiped away from her face or sharp snarls to not to touch her. She surprisingly allowed him to caress her long, lovely face. Jorah brushed away a crumb that was on the corner of her pretty pouty mouth.

"No one thinks you are handsome or brave as much as I do. I'll let this go just this once Jorah," growled Lyanna though her full lips upturned in a small smile. Her face grew thoughtful as she touched his hand that cupped her face. "Do you reckon we would have liked each other if we had married other people?"

"Define _like_ , my love. However in all honesty, I don't think we would have had a great opportunity to form a friendship or anything," he answered. Their paths may never even crossed had Lya's betrothal to Lord Robert not fell through.

"Well suppose I was a queen and you were a knight. My knight," proposed Lyanna, her grey eyes alight. "A queen of winter snow like what you often call me and you as my bear knight." Jorah chuckled deeply at her imagination.

"I would swear to serve and protect you from harm. To keep you warm from the winter cold," amused Jorah as he held her hand in his. They stood up from their stone perches.

"Love me as well?" teased Lyanna archly as they approached the merchant's stand. She picked up the wolf figurine and held it against her.

"Aye, most especially." He picked up a bear figurine and held it next to the wolf figurine in Lyanna's hand.

* * *

Lyanna stood tall and proud as the court formally bid them farewell on their journey back home in the North. She would have preferred a longer more intimate family farewell than the all too short private farewell they had with Ned followed by this stupidity. _I don't care about these people and I am sure they feel the same._ Lyanna spotted fair haired Lynesse Hightower standing next to her lord father. She gripped Jorah's arm hard, causing him to wince at her nails.

"Are you well, love?" he whispered into her hair as he kissed it. Jorah did not notice or seem to look for Lynesse Hightower as far as Lyanna was aware. His darker eyes flickered over her, stopping at her lips. How he failed at subtlety.

"I'll be better as soon." It was time to board the small barge to the ship and a panic rose inside as if she were forgetting something. Lyanna looked back at Ned with his queen at his side. Lya locked eyes with Ned. The corners of his mouth grew sombre, despite his smile and wave of farewell. _How much time shall past before the four of us are together again?_ Despite, the grumbling responses of Brandon and Benjen to Ned's demands and requests; both brothers looked back their brother and king with pangs of sadness. Benjen was disembarking to Dragonstone, dressed in all the trimmings of a lord. She and Ben had cried in each other's arms, not wanting to be parted.

_"They say Dragonstone is a dreary island with equally grim castle," murmured Ben._

_"There's huge deposits of dragonglass there. I've heard there is some green, red, and purple," informed Lya. Benjen smiled weakly._

_"I'll send you some if I find them."_

_"Promise me."_

_"I promise, sister," vowed Benjen solemnly._  

_Lone wolves, we shall be. I in Bear Island, Brandon at Winterfell, Ned in King's Landing, and Ben at Dragonstone._

Lyanna lay with Jorah on their bed on the ship. Her head was rested on his shoulder and her eyes were red from crying. How she missed Ned and Benjen already. _Especially Ben._ She had the wolf race up and down one side of Jorah's hairy chest. Jon lay on top of the other side of Jorah's chest, drowsy from his earlier feeding with Lyanna. Jon's eyes followed the wolf's movements. His tiny hand gripped Jorah's swarthy finger. 

"I love you my boy," cooed Lyanna as she lean over to kiss his little face. Jon squealed and tugged on a lock of her dark hair. She also longed for the smell of the tall pines and their smoky logged keep.  _It wasn't a goodbye for forever._

* * *

"Why have you sent Daenerys Targaryen north with your brother?" asked Cersei wrapped in a luxurious golden robe. She had forgotten about the dragon brat until her lord father brought up the child, quietly wroth that Eddard had not ordered the child killed or had not requested Father to keep her as a hostage at Casterly Rock. "It would have been better to kill it."

"No, she is better alive to remind Dorne and Viserys Targaryen that I hold one of them hostage at my mercy."

"So if they try to wage a war, Daenerys will be executed." Eddard nodded slowly and gravely. Cersei wasn't convinced still. "She is still a cause for them to start a war." _To challenge us._

"Dorne is too weak to make a move." Cersei nodded and did not press the subject any further. Her lord father had reminded her to have a son and heir. _Soon._ Eddard had obviously lain with her on their wedding night but to her dismay, her maids had reported to Father that Eddard had only come to her bed twice since then. Cersei reached out and rubbed Eddard's shoulders.

"Will you come to bed, my king?" They needed a son and heir. She needed a son by Eddard so she could bring her daughters by Robert to court. Father and to some extent Lord Arryn had barred her from sending her daughters in Storm's End to her. Cersei screamed at them that she was the queen and she could do as she pleased. It had been on the tip of her tongue to threaten to tell Eddard before she was reminded that they were Stannis' heirs after Renly. The new Lady Baratheon had suffered an early miscarriage. Her dream for Myrcella gave her enough pause to do as Father wished. Cersei compensated by sending for them for visits as much as she could and spending gold on their attire, ensuring they looked every inch the little does of Storm's End and lionesses of Casterly Rock. _Trueborn heiresses of the Stormlands._ Lest, Stannis or Selsye forgot who their mother was. It was unlikely that Stannis would forget who their father, his elder brother was. _Poor dear must grind his teeth in his dead brother's shadow._ It soothed her that Maester Cressen wrote monthly reports of hers and Robert's three black haired daughters. The maester had taken to them as he had to Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana's three sons.

Eddard nodded and dutifully followed her to her chamber. She sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her long golden hair with her hand. Cersei looked up at Eddard.

"You don't come to my bed as often as I wish, Eddard," she complained. It rankled her that she had to almost drag her second husband to her bed.

"I didn't know I was welcomed in it," responded Eddard mildly as he removed his jerkin, revealing a lean, yet well muscled chest. He was not as broad and hairy as Robert nor golden and chiseled as Jaime. Eddard was not as tall as his elder brother. Cersei remembered the looks Catelyn gave her lord husband Brandon. _The girl is in love and thinks he is some mighty, handsome thing from a song._ Cersei recalled being half in love with Robert Baratheon on their wedding day. Cersei looked at the floor, it felt wrong to respond to another man, even her new husband, so soon after the death of her love- and her late lord husband.

"You are the king and my husband. You can come to my bed as you please," Cersei stated. "You never asked either. We don't have a choice, we have a duty to bear a son and heir." Eddard processed her words. "

I hope an enjoyable duty," he said quietly. She scoffed as she slowly undid her robe. Cersei looked up and give him a coy smile.

"We won't know if we don't do the deed itself enough to yield results, Eddard." His cold face was warmed by the smile on his face. Eddard seemed cold and unfeeling but the sight of her in a sheer nightgown proved he was just like any other man. Eddard Stark had been quiet on their wedding night with the exceptions of some moans of her name as he filled her with his seed. That stone could be turned less harsh by the sight of beauty. Cersei liked the way he called out her name.

"Ned," he corrected. He looked at her almost shyly. "You can call me, Ned." Cersei smiled invitingly to her shy husband and laid back on the bed.

 Hours later in the darkness, Cersei lay awake watching him. 

"Ned," she tested aloud softly as she touched his chest the sleeping Eddard with his hand cupping her large breasts. She thought of her future sons, they weren't all golden haired and green eyed miniatures of Jaime. Dark haired like Eddard- Ned that curled like her own hair. Tall and slim yet strong. Cersei slipped her hand under the covers and stroked the length of his sword. He reacted with a moan of pleasure but did not wake from his sleep. Cersei grinned lazily, her green eyes flashing with amusement as she too fell asleep watching as Ned dreamed of their coital pleasure.

* * *

Brandon had glared at the youngest spawn of the Mad King. Aye, the babe was only an innocent babe but it reminded him of the Crown Prince. Why should this child live and breathe in the castle of his lord father? Where Rickard Stark walked and ordered in his stern lordly manner? He had shouted loudly this to Ned and Lord Arryn before dutifully taking in the child. Ned looked at him in an stern, icy manner that he had imitated Father from an early age. There was a flicker of awkward insecurity in Ned's face, when he royally requested again that the Targaryen girl would be _warded_ at Winterfell from their new sibling dynamic. Brandon had bitterly complained to Catelyn who was sweet and understanding of his feelings towards the child. Yet she was firm that they had no choice but to accept Daenerys Targaryen as their ward/hostage.

"How could you want our precious little Arya to grow up with the sister of her grandfather, my lord father's killer? Our future children as well?" exclaimed Brandon late at night as they laid in bed. His tan hand gently touched Catelyn's unblemished porcelain stomach. "Why can't Lord Arryn take the child to the Eyrie. For all the boasting of how impregnable it is? Wouldn't that be a more suitable place to keep her?" Mother would have never accepted the child into the walls of Winterfell. _Be bold, Brandon._ How close the Targaryen crown prince came to taking her only daughter away.

_Visenya, was the last cry of the Crown Prince as blood like red rubies fell._

Brandon would have to endure the sight of pale white blonde hair and purple eyes, when all he wanted to do was rip them from memory. Only till the girl was old enough to send off to some remote place or the Silent Sisters. The loyal Umbers, perhaps, would intimidate the child to know her fragile place in the world. Or his kin in the mountains, would remind her how harsh a winter she would receive if she dared got any inkling of taking down Brandon's little brother from the Iron throne. _She's just a girl. A babe. She may not survive the Northern cold._

"We must accept, Brandon. It is our duty and it would be dishonourable to let down our king, your brother. You must swallow your bitterness for our family," reasoned Catelyn. Brandon made a face as any elder sibling did when they had to submit to a younger sibling. "Just think we shall be home at Winterfell with Arya soon." Without Ben. Catelyn had a knack for knowing what Brandon was thinking or feeling for she distracted him from the thoughts of his youngest brother heading to Dragonstone.

"I think I may be with child again." Brandon grinned wolfishly as he kissed Catelyn passionately. _Another wolf of Winterfell. A Rickard or a Lyarra._

* * *

Little Margaery Tyrell was accompanied by her lady grandmother to be presented to her future lord husband. She was dressed in exquisite wintergreen satin with golden roses stitched on the skirt. Her tall, and thin betrothed knelt down to gently pin a grey silver snarling wolf pin to her fine gown. She smiled serenely as she was taught to do.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Lady Margaery," welcomed Lord Benjen Stark politely. She curtseyed again and thanked him,

"Thank you, Lord Stark." Grandmother and Mother had told her that the Lord of Dragonstone would be the father of her real life dolls, when she was grown up. Willas was her darling little brother and she would have another brother or perhaps a sister for Mother was huge with child again. Lord Benjen had striking bright blue eyes. How she was wished she had interesting eyes like him even though they were eerie at times. He had shoulder length dark brown hair and pale skin. Lord Benjen took her small dainty hand in his larger hand and led her to the seat of honour next to him.

"I hope I can be a good lady wife to you one day, my lord," she said quite chuffed that she knew her courtesies and knowing how pleased Lady Grandmother would be. Lord Benjen even smiled at her and nodded. "I can't wait for our wedding. My lady aunt's wedding was so much fun. I heard Uncle Paxter say the wedding night is best part though I don't quite understand why. How could it be better than dancing and cakes?" Benjen Stark looked away with an odd look of awkwardness. Margaery panicked not understanding what she had done wrong. Margaery had said everything she had been practising to say. Her large brown eyes were starting to well with tears and wanted to run to her lady grandmother's skirts.

"Let's be friends first, my lady. There's a cyvasse table but I don't really know how to play." Her face perked up. Margaery surmised wisely for her young age that Lord Benjen would not know how to play with dolls.

"We can have a picnic or ride ponies," she suggested. "And play hide and seek in the gardens." _Was there gardens here at Dragonstone like the beautiful ones back home?_

"That would be nice," smiled Lord Benjen with relief. Young Margaery Tyrell gave him her best smile in return. 

* * *

Lyanna and Jorah stayed at Winterfell for only two nights before continuing their journey back home to Bear Island. On the morning that they left Winterfell, Lyanna went to the nursery where Jon had stayed with his cousin Arya and Daenerys Targaryen. Lyanna peered into Daenerys' cradle out of curiosity. The babe was so small but beautiful. Lyanna touched her fine white blonde hair. The baby look at her with its amethyst eyes. Her eyes were so similar to Rhaegar's. For just a short second, Lyanna wondered if the babe Rhaegar wanted from her would have looked like little Daenerys. The thought went away as the wet nurse came in and Lyanna pretended she hadn't been staring at the former princess.

"I don't understand why the poor princess must be kept all the way up here," complained the wet nurse. "The poor dear didn't cause the war or kill Lord Stark's father. Lord Stark acts as if she is about to set the castle aflame." The wet nurse picked up the baby girl then looked up in horror as she realized she had been speaking to Lyanna. "Oh I am sorry. Please, don't tell Lord and Lady Stark. I meant no harm by my words. Please, forgive me, my lady."

"I'd be more mindful of what you say and who you speak to in the future," warned Lyanna simply, as she carried her son and little Arya toddle along holding Lyanna's hand. Catelyn came down the corridor and her beautiful face lit up at the sight of her dark haired daughter. 

"Motha'!" screeched Arya as she let go of Lyanna's hand and walked unevenly to her lady mother's outstretched arms. "Baby!" She pointed in the direction of the nursery.

"Yes, Arya," said Catelyn slowly. Catelyn exchanged a glance with Lyanna who gave her a weak smile in response. "I'm sure Brandon will come around eventually."

"She seems to be a good baby," offered Lyanna, remembering the wet nurse's words. Catelyn sighed and smiled sadly.

"I wish you weren't leaving us so soon."

"I'm sure you both will see us plenty soon." They exchanged a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking down to the northern gate, where Jorah stood waiting with Brandon.

"Say goodbye to your cousin Jon," instructed Catelyn.

"Bye-bye," cried Arya. Brandon looked at her glumly as he helped her onto her horse.

"Don't have too many adventures without me, Lya. I'll write more often." Lyanna chuckled knowing Brandon wouldn't.

"I'll miss you, Brandon. I'll see you at the harvest festival." Brandon nodded as he stood back to let Lyanna ride away. Lyanna turned her head once and waved back at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept the betrothal between Benjen and Margaery bc the actor who played Benjen on the show is gorgeous. lol And he never gets married in most fanfics.


	7. VII

Lyanna exhaled a deep breath of fresh air as she sipped a warm cup of mead outside Bear Hall. It felt good to be back in the North, back on Bear Island. They returned to the logged keep, greeted by Maege, Dacey, and Alysane. Lyanna smiled at the statue of the fur clad lady with a babe at her breast.

"Our lady has returned," exclaimed Maege. Jorah had mentioned that Lyanna looked like the fierce lady at the gate. Riding with Jon in her arms and her sword at her side. She smiled and turned to see Jorah gazing at her intensely.

"Hello Maege! Oh, how tall you have gotten Dacey! Alysane, have you lost another tooth?" Alysane smiled broadly and pointed at the missing tooth. Dacey hopped up and down.

"Guess what! Guess, guess! Mother is with child!" Lyanna looked at Maege who was smiling toothily.

"Congratulations, Maege," Lyanna expressed with some surprise. "How far along are you?"

"Near five moons now. Let me see my nephew's boy. Oh what a sturdy boy." Lyanna handed Jon to Maege's strong arms before dismounting her horse. _Five moons? She must have fallen with child during the war._

"Another Mormont," commented Jorah with no surprise to the news. Lyanna glanced at Jorah, wondering how soon he wished to have another child of their own. Lyanna did not want to relive the sickness, and not to be allowed to ride her horse as fast as she wished. Not so soon anyhow. Jorah glanced back with a soft look, confirming that he wished for a sibling for Jon. Lyanna looked away and followed the girls into the logged keep. Though she had naught to fear, since she fed Jon herself and had managed to not fall with child for almost two years until Jon was weaned.

* * *

Westerosi merchants and sailors drank toasts, when the boats brought news of the birth of a crown prince to the ports of Braavos. It was a year, since the ascension of the new dynasty. _They are loyal to any king who keeps them in gold._ They had likely drank toasts for the birth of Prince Viserys with the same enthusiasm. And the birth of Prince Rhaegar many years before. _Stark holds no special love or loyalty of these men._ He had asked someone what was the festivity that everyone was celebrating without faking a Braavossi accent.

"You are from Westeros?" a fat wealthy merchant asked him.

"Aye, I was." He looked down out of habit, incase someone would recognize his green eyes. It seemed more than a year ago he had been smuggled out of King's Landing. He still wondered why he had been switched, why he hadn't been burned alive. Why he continued to remain in Essos, often staring at the Narrow Sea with bitterness. He was a dead man to everyone who knew him.

 _I'm alive! Come to me and we will start all over here in Essos._ How he wanted to put those words to paper. 

"Not in a joyous mood for the birth of Prince Robb?" pressed the merchant. He grimaced. _Why should I be?_ The stranger continued, "They say he looks like a Stark wolf pup with Lannister green eyes."

_He has her eyes. Our eyes._

He burned with jealously that yet another child of Cersei's was not his as well. It rankled to think of the dour plain Ned Stark married and sleeping with his golden twin, his other half.

"Babes can easily die of illness," he shrugged uncaring, though he remembered the protective look on the most beautiful face, when her fawn got a chill from one of the maids. The golden lioness pacing as the loud black haired mite let the whole of Storm's End know of her tired, congested fury.

"Not a kind thing to say about one's own _nephew_ ," commented the fat merchant with a laugh. "I know a young boy who is as angry as you about wolves or as he would say dogs for stealing his sister. I believe you know him." He looked up warily, revealing his emerald green eyes.

"I doubt Prince Viserys' anger can match mine."

* * *

"I wonder what the Small Council would say if they saw you napping with our son on your chest in the middle of the day?" It was a sweet thing to discover. Cersei had stood by the door for a moment as she took in the sight of her husband and her youngest child. _My baby boy._ Her pride and joy. She had received a subtle look of pride and approval from her lord father, when he had came to the birthing chambers to meet the new crown prince. She very much doubted her lord father ever done the same with her or Jaime, when they were babes. Cersei wanted to criticize Ned for behaving so unmanly, but she instead wished to have been included in this nap.

"Really? You have never cared about what the Small Council think of you," said Ned as he slowly opened his eyes. She walked over and bent her head to kiss Ned and to softly touch Robb's dark brown curls. His green eyes were closed in his sleep. Robb had been the biggest babe she had birthed thus far. Even her eldest daughter Myrcella who was a miniature female Robert, had not been as large. Myrcella was a demanding and vocal little one based off the reports written to Cersei. Cersei had only seen a boisterous, loud, and spoiled little girl. _Very much like Robert._  And herself. Though, in one visit to Storm's End, as Cersei carried Myrcella around the castle during a walk with Lady Selyse, Myrcella pointed to the seat of Storm's End,

 _'Mine'._ _Lady Selyse who had suffered another disappointing miscarriage, had frowned deeply at Myrcella. Cersei made herself look contrite, though she beamed inside with pride for her daughter. '_

_Silly things, she says," laughed Cersei as she kissed Myrcella's chubby cheek. 'She'll be crying out next along with Renly, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm a dragon!'_

_'Silly? Stannis treats her as if she were his own daughter. I have heard rumours that you laid with a brother.' Cersei's smile froze. Her thoughts turned to every time she laid with Jaime. Selyse took Cersei's pause as validation of the rumours._

_'How dare you? Myrcella is the very image of Robert."_

_Lady Selyse's face was pinched with suspicion. 'I know my lord husband would have married you if he were not already wed to me when Robert died. He insults me with his love for your children. When Robert was away, you were always alone with Stannis and he never came to my bed often during then." Cersei laughed at the thought of lying with stiff Stannis._

_"I was with my ladies and he sat in the corner gritting his teeth at our laughter and gossip. My three daughters are Robert's. Say otherwise once more and you shall find yourself a cell." Cersei walked away with the vow not to bother trying to be kind to Selyse ever again._

"You are right I don't," she agreed as she leaned down to kiss him on the lips.

"You shouldn't create unnecessary enemies," chided Ned gently as he ran his hand through her curls. Cersei rolled her eyes immaturely. Why did they have to care about the opinions of sheep?

"We are the king and queen," she scoffed.

"No true king or queen ever needs to say or remind others that they are the king or queen." Ned spoke those words in the same tone he used when he uttered his house's ominously dramatic words. Her green eyes flashed and her blood boiled. She almost slapped Ned across the face if he had not stopped her hand. Cersei did not like to be reprimanded. 

"How dare you speak to me so? I am your queen and the mother of your child. Your son and heir. I am a Lannister of Casterly Rock," she hissed angrily.

"I am well aware of who you are and who you are to me, my wife. Our Robb has solidified the succession but my rule- our rule is far from fully secure. There's been a rumbling of dissent in the Iron Islands."

"What a little more reaving of the coastline than usual?" Her tone was flippant but she twisted with unease as she stared at her dour husband's long face.

"Lord Balon Greyjoy is believed to be starting a rebellion, to break away from the Seven Kingdoms. It has to be crushed swiftly or-"

"Dorne will seek to capitalize on our weakness should the rebellion spread," finished Cersei. 

"Aye," Ned agreed. "It is said, Balon has slowly been building up his fleet for years."

"We still have more men," she commented. Ned handed her their Robb in her arms.

"You will rule, whilst I am away at war." Her green eyes widened with surprise.

"Not Lord Arryn?"

"He will have to confer with you," Ned amended. Cersei nodded liking that she had the final word. She was in a glorious mood the rest of the day at the prospect of ruling. Of sitting on the Iron Throne, whilst Ned was away. Like the beginning of her first husband's rebellion, it had not dawned in her mind of the mortality of men in war. 

After the feast honouring the many visiting diplomats from various parts of Essos, Cersei had excused herself and went straight to her chambers. As she waited for Ned to come to her bedchamber that night, Cersei felt terror in her breast at the thought of losing Ned, and her power as queen. Lord Arryn and her lord father would take what she had gained and seek to control her small son. She poured herself a glass of wine. Her gown was loosened by her maids to make it easier for Ned to undress her. The minutes seemed to tick by slowly. She found herself staring out the window at the gold statues of her late lord husband and her golden twin below. 

"He was a good man. A good friend," lamented Ned as he approached from behind. Cersei casted a bored glance at the golden image of her late husband.

"The diplomat from Myr was very charming," she remarked dryly as they stood before the window looking down at the statues. The diplomat had been exceedingly courteous to her. The diplomat had boldly stated to Ned that she should be clad in nothing but the sheerest of Myrish lace. Cersei had not been amused by the diplomat's familiarity and inappropriate words. She quite liked Ned's immediate response by grabbing the man by the throat, forgetting political protocol. Despite his stony face, he had reached for her hand tenderly afterwards.

"He should not speak so coarsely, especially before a queen. I was protecting your honour as a good husband should," he growled, the rage rumbling through. "I am surprised you find him- _charming_."

"I don't, what horrible fat little man he was," she agreed lacing her hand in his. Cersei looked at the statue of her twin. "Do you not think I am beautiful enough to be clad in nothing but sheer Myrish lace?" Ned gulped beside her. She smiled.

"Of course- I think you are very beautiful in - anything," stumbled Ned trying to look away and gawk at her figure at the same time. Her mouth twitched in amusement.

"You aren't very convincing," she purred as she moved closer. Their faces would have only been inches apart if Ned weren't so tall. "Lady Jenelle Waynwood finds you quite handsome." She did not dwell on why she felt the need to mention that or was so bothered by it. It was impossible for Cersei to deny that she had grown _partial_ to the quiet, dark haired northman before her. It was growing hard to hold onto the memory of her dead Jaime.  _I was suppose to hate Ned and mourn Jaime for longer than I have._

"Is my faithfulness not proof enough?" he asked quietly. Cersei blinked that loyal Ned would cast shade about Robert's treatment of her.

"It's proof that you are loyal husband, but it does not prove you find me beautiful. Lord Stannis is dutiful to Selyse but the whole realm knows there's no love there. Did you not propose to me out of dutiful obligation?"

"I- I have found you beautiful since you were first wed to Robert," confessed Ned quietly as if the statue of Robert could hear him.

"That long?" she blinked unable to hide the pleasant shock in her voice. Ned gave her a serious nod. She pressed herself against him and whispered in his ear.

"The Gods may punish me for saying this," she began, thinking of how she had once jested to Ned of having an torrid affair with someone, meaning Jaime at the time. "I'm quite glad I didn't have to coax you into having an affair with me." 

"Is that your way of saying you love me?" Ned asked huskily. She almost flinched uncomfortably. Cersei loved Jaime, had loved Prince Rhaegar, since her lord father told she would be queen. Who noticed the quiet wolf, when the sun and the moon shone so brilliantly? 

"It's my way of saying you no longer irritate me and how much I want you to fuck me right now," she clarified, looking at the space beyond his head. That night and the several days up until he embarked with the royal army, Cersei had tried but failed to convey to Ned that she would  _care_ if he died at war. She didn't want to care about that dour man with his dramatically cryptic words. 

* * *

 

Ben slowly grew accustomed to his new life at Dragonstone. He enjoyed training soldiers and exploring the beaches and its caves. He however often missed Winterfell and the North. He still had many dreams of being a brother of the Night's Watch. He had dreams of the cave of obsidian glass that he explored with his young betrothed, Lady Margaery Tyrell. One dream in particular, he had made him wake with a jerk that caused him to hit his head on the headboard. Ben was in the cave holding a torch and the dainty hand of Margaery in his other hand as they did during her lengthy visits to Dragonstone. Margaery would be living on Dragonstone permanently, once she turned thirteen. In the dream, he had turned his head and Margaery was no longer the little girl he slowly was growing fond of. She was older, and fully grown. A beautiful slender yet curvy young woman.

 _"Can't we stay in this cave forever? You are mine, Ben. And I am yours. Remember, this is where we made love near three years before we were wed. Take the obsidian glass with you. Every time you look at it think of us and that you will come home to me." Her eyes were sad but her mouth smirked as his eyes took in the low cut blue gown she wore. "I see that you will miss this. How can you take the vow to not take a wife or father a child, when you have a lady wife and a child?"_ _His hand burned with cold as his hand went to her stomach._

_"Winter is Coming," he croaked feeling torn. He was alone in the forest beyond the Wall. A lone raven circled him, cawing for corn._

* * *

Life on Bear Island had been relatively peaceful and very routined for nearly three years since the end of the Rebellion. Jorah had rejoiced at Lyanna's second pregnancy. He marvelled at everything he had missed out whilst he was away at war. Jorah had been by Lyanna's side as she birthed their second child, a daughter with Lyanna's looks. The tiny infant was named Eryn. Lyanna's labor pains had begun during an early morning walk with Jorah in the forest. It was nearly half a day before Eryn Mormont entered the world. It had caused him pain to see Lya wince with discomfort and howl in pain for several hours. The baby had not cried immediately and Jorah had thought with horror that she had been stillborn. Jorah burst into shaky, relieved laughter, when Eryn cried loudly as she was quickly cleaned and wrapped in a linen towel.

Lyanna had snapped at him with exhaustion to let her hold their newborn daughter again. Jorah had been cradling their newborn forever after Lyanna had let him hold the baby. He had fallen in love with their tiny daughter. 

"I birthed her. I should get to hold her too." He placed the baby back into her mother's arms. Lyanna's long face grew content as she stared at Eryn. Jorah kissed Lya's sweaty brow.

"She'll be a beauty like you, my love. And just as brave. A wild little wolf-bear cub." 

"I would pray for the opposite of me, my bear. We will both have a head of grey hairs by time she's ten if she's anything like me," laughed Lyanna tiredly as their infant daughter rooted for Lya's breast.

* * *

 

Three years of peace since the Rebellion had made Brandon forget the horrors and grief of war. Catelyn believed, he had chosen to not remember them. He walked out of the war council room of Winterfell with an eager grin. He was likely grinning at the thought of going to join his brothers, and Lord Stannis in quashing the Ironborn back to their islands. Catelyn approached him having come from the nursery. Their son and heir, named Rickon, was red haired and blue eyed like Catelyn. Their daughter Arya was growing into a mischievous, and adventurous little girl who preferred to toddle after Brandon than do her lessons, much to Catelyn's chagrin. Everyone seemed to warn her that making Arya into a proper lady would prove difficult as it had been for Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra in their trials with Lyanna.

"We are to go to war against Lord Balon and his Iron Fleet," he announced with the gravity that was due, but his physical demeanour was eager and rather careless. "Ned wrote the letter himself." Catelyn nodded dutifully, not betraying her distress at the news.

"I shall pray for the King's and your victory. And more importantly, your safe return," she declared dutifully. She often wondered if Brandon would love her more if she chose to worship his Old Gods, if she were more like his beloved sister in a way. Catelyn was aware of her southron birth and how she contrasted amongst the Northerners. Catelyn had painfully learned of her lord husband's lack of success in his lazy half hearted attempt to rekindle his _friendship_ with the widowed Lady Barbrey Dustin. Lady Barbrey had glared coldly at Catelyn whilst the latter held a two moon old Rickon during the last harvest feast.

_"Lord Mormont's son looks more like a Stark than the heir of Winterfell," observed Lady Barbrey with a cold smirk._

Catelyn had been upset by those words. For it was true, her nephew looked like a Stark more than her son by Brandon. It doubled the hurt to have learned about her lord husband's failed attempt to rekindle with the same Lady Barbrey. Catelyn felt insecure about her position despite fulfilling her duty to provide a healthy male heir.

She was in love with her strong, handsome Brandon and feared he held no love for her. Catelyn had feared he had been the father of the beautiful but dead, Ashara Dayne's bastard daughter. She wanted to keep Brandon's eyes from roaming and prayed that he would never shame her. The news of the war filled her with pain that he may take a whore to fulfill his needs though she knew that it was a custom of most men to do so.

Lyanna had no fear of Lord Jorah siring a bastard for he was the most devoted of husbands. _The man worships Lyanna._ From what Catelyn has observed at King's Landing, her good brother King Eddard Stark was far too honourable to dishonour his Queen. _If only Brandon were similar in that respect._ Despite their marriage being arranged by their lord fathers, she knew Brandon had been happy to marry her and that he did care for her. The knowledge soothed her until the horrible thought took over.

_Please no bastard sons who have Brandon's looks._

How she missed the sweet days of their courtship, when he came to Riverrun and swept her off her feet. Lysa had been slightly jealous of her handsome match, but assured her their marriage would be magical like the songs. Catelyn had been young and infatuated with Brandon. She had not anticipated he may not be or grow to be as infatuated with her as she was with him. _Faithfulness is not in his nature._ She wondered if Lord Rickard and Lady Lyarra had spent too much of their energies trying to rein in the wild Lyanna that they forgot to admonish their eldest son for his wandering proclivities.

"The war will be over in no time, Catelyn," assured Brandon with arrogance. She smiled at him as he embraced her warmly.

"I hope so," she wished softly. Catelyn blushed like a maiden, when he grasped her by the waist and pressed her gently against the wall to kiss her.

"A servant may walk by," she protested, her blue eyes darting around though her pale porcelain skin flushed. She smiled and kissed him back.

"Remember, when you showed me the godswood of Riverrun during my last visit before we were wed?" asked Brandon with a grin. Catelyn smiled shyly at the memory. She wondered why he remembered it all the sudden. 

"You were very flattering and I remember I had to be firm with you that we would do nothing untoward before we were wedded."

"I just wanted a few kisses," he insisted innocently giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek, though his hands weren't quite as chaste. _His hand had roamed up my skirts._ Catelyn laughed and rolled her eyes.

"I remember things differently I suppose," conceded Catelyn before kissing him hotly, taking Brandon by surprise. Catelyn was no prudish lady but she never initiated a kiss quite like that before. She was vaguely aware of gawking, giggling young servant girls peeking at them from down the corridor. "Was that um- too bold, Brandon? It wasn't what prop-" She played with her long hair, nervously looking at him.

"I like bold," he answered honestly with still some surprise from the spontaneous kiss. "I don't think I want to go off to war as much as I did earlier." Brandon looked at her as if he had been too quick to judge her. Catelyn had a smug, satisfied look on her face, highlighting her fine cheekbones. 

* * *

Lyanna was growing restless for some kind of adventure. Raids from the Ironborn had strangely discontinued. Looking back, perhaps, she should have taken that as a sign of something brewing in the Iron Isles. She had been diverted from the news of the realms by her children. Jon had grown into a sturdy young child of two with a mop of brown hair. He was quite a little bear trying to catch up with Dacey and Alysane. Maege had another daughter named Lyra with features that Lyanna swore looked like one of the lords of the Riverlands. _Not a Frey or a Tully though._ Lyanna was ignoring her duties as the lady of Bear Island, preferring to play with the children, when Jorah approached, carrying a missive.

"What is it, Jorah?" she questioned with a frown as she stood up from the ground.

"Lord Balon Greyjoy has declared a rebellion against the crown. They want independence and they have started attacks on the Westerland coast. Lannisport, I believe."

"My brothers will go to war, meaning you shall as well." Jorah nodded as he lifted Jon into his arms. Lyanna did not want him to go without her.

"I am going to fight with you this time." She jutted her stubborn chin.

"Lya, what about the baby?" Lyanna knew her small daughter needed her, but she was determined to go.

"Why do you get the chance for glory? I'm trapped here. What was the point of training me if I never use my sword? Don't mention those skirmishes with the four young wildlings. That was less challenging than my training sessions."

"I'd rather you never have the need to pick up that sword to defend yourself," retorted Jorah stung that she felt trapped as the lady of Bear Island. "Do you think all the women and girls of my island learn how to defend themselves because they wish to? It's out of necessity, not glory-seeking." She scowled at him. _Of course I know that._

"I still want to go to war with you, my bear," she plead. His scruffy, sharp cheek boned face softened at her endearment for him. Lyanna knew she could win him over. "I don't like being parted from you." 

"Nor I." He sighed but his face was firm. Without verbally stating his refusal, Lyanna's hopes died and her rebellious nature roared. 

"I'll follow you," she warned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think Brandon Stark's "sleeping around" would have ended if he and Catelyn married. I also think Barbrey may have exaggerated her story of Brandon not wanting to marry Catelyn. 
> 
> Jaime is alive! 
> 
> Arya Stark - 5  
> Myrcella Baratheon - 4  
> Jon Mormont - 3  
> Joanna & Cassana Baratheon - 3  
> Rickon Stark - 2  
> Prince Robb Stark - 1 year & 9 moons  
> Eryn Mormont - 6 moons


	8. VIII

Lyanna's wilful nature won over Jorah's reservations and she embarked from their log hall with him to fight in the war. Perhaps, it was the selfishness in Jorah, of not wanting to be away from her that had been easily worn down. Jorah knew she was capable in fighting. One evening, he had came to her, bearing armour that would fit her slim frame. Lyanna had thanked him with her smiles and peppered happy kisses on every inch of his face and neck.

_"You are the very best," she squealed with delight. He smiled at her happiness and enveloped her into his arms._

_"I'm sorry some of it is old and mismatched. I made sure you would not have to wear anything that was patched."_

_"I don't mind. I am going to be fighting in battle, my bear." Her grey eyes shone brightly._ _"_ _I_ _'m so happy you changed your mind, Jorah."_

_Jorah knew she would have managed to join the war somehow. He nodded bewildered that she treated the used armour as if he had gifted her all the gold in the world._

Jorah hadn't asked or given his good brother, Lord Brandon, any notice that Lyanna was going with them to fight the Ironborn. Luckily, Brandon was merely happy to see his sister, not seeming to notice that she was clad in armour, when she rode with Jorah and the men of Bear Island. The other northern lords had kept their opinions to themselves if they had any. When the northerners joined with the King and the royal army, King Eddard had raised an eyebrow at his sister but remained quiet for he was more preoccupied with the Ironborn attacks on the Westerland coasts. Benjen was leading his newly trained soldiers and Lord Stannis Baratheon, the master of ships, was sailing with the navy.

Many of the highborn men from outside the North had made scathing comments about Lyanna fighting and how Jorah was a poor husband for not putting her back in her place. Jorah had itched to put some of them in their place in the ground. Lyanna had ignored them fairly well, which was a feat in itself given her temper. She was determined to prove herself. After a couple of battles on the coast, the comments were fewer, once she had proved to be far capable in battle than many of young green boys. Many of the soldiers took notice of her beauty. Some of which were bold or drunk enough to talk to her in a manner, which displeased Jorah greatly.

_"What waste. Such a beauty like you hidden away in a remote island. I would have you decked in all the jewels and finery if you were my lady wife," boasted a handsome minor lord who was inept at war._

_"My lord father would love to have you for a wife," said one of the numerous sons of Lord Walder Frey._

_"Clearly, Mormont hasn't done a very good job of taming you." The russet haired man bent down and whispered in Lya's ear. "You know where my tent is." Lyanna poured her ale over his head and kneed him. Jorah had heard her shouts at them all and strode over with his hand on the hilt of Longclaw. The Frey who spoke to Lyanna flinched and backed away from the sight of him._

_"I am the sister of your King! My husband is twice the man you lot are. Dare to speak so to me again and I'll cut off your manhood." Jorah strode over and stood behind Lya, staring dangerously at the shorter man. She turned her head and noticed her lord husband._

_"Jorah-" He grabbed the man by the neck and ignored Lyanna. The man's face had turned blue, when King Eddard's quiet voice ordered him to release the man._

_"Lord Mormont, I shall deal with him," ordered King Eddard. Jorah reluctantly nodded with deference, before storming away with Lyanna at his heels._

_"Jorah, you can't kill every man who looks at me or speaks to me in an unseemly manner."_

_"I can," He shot back. "Do you doubt my capabilities?"_ _Lyanna let out a dramatic sigh and touched his arm._

_"In killing men? No," she answered. "If you are going to stew all night, may we go back to our tent? Save that anger for Ironborn tomorrow." He gave a moody nod and they walked without talking to their tent that was not as grand as many of the others. Lyanna flopped down on the pallet and removed her scabbard. His mood had fairly dissipated after near twenty minutes. Jorah looked tenderly at his nineteen year old wife._

_"_ _You think I'm twice the man in comparison to everyone in this bloody army."_

_"Never complimenting you ever again," groaned Lya rolling her eyes. Lyanna mumbled under her breath. He chuckled as he removed Longclaw and set it down by the pallet, before sitting down next to Lyanna._

_"And?" Jorah pressed, with a small smile as he picked up and kissed her pale hand._

_"I hate you, Jorah Mormont," she huffed turning on her side, facing away from him. He laid down and kissed her neck. "I thought you were going to be fuming all night."_

_"You made a statement without going into all the details. I am left riveted." Lyanna snorted with laughter._

_"You are twice everyone's age," clarified Lyanna with a grin as she touched a lock of his receding hair. He made the face of mock hurt._

_"Lord Manderly has ten years over me," he reminded. She made an noise of amused annoyance._

_"You are such a- We are going to set siege on Pyke tomorrow and all you care is if I think your co- Good night." He chuckled in Lya's ear._

_"Good night, love." He tugged the wool blanket at their feet and pulled it over Lya. Lyanna fell asleep quickly as he could hear her soft snores after ten minutes. He was woken in the very early morn by a whisper in his ear._

_"Oh stop grinning and get up you fool," hissed her voice in the darkness._

* * *

She vividly remembered that Jorah was one of the first to storm into Pyke during the siege. Lyanna had been a bit further behind fighting alongside her brothers. He had charged ahead with a rush of mad adrenalin with Ned not far behind. She remembered childishly racing Brandon to Pyke. Lordsport and Botley Castle had been destroyed before they had pressed on to attack the castle of Pyke. One of the elder sons of Lord Balon had perished during the siege; a black haired young man near Benjen's age that had crowed with cockiness before he was killed. Lyanna would learn after Lord Balon Greyjoy and the Ironborn had been defeated, a young man had also perished who was the grandson to Old Nan. Lya had knelt before the dead young man and closed his dead unseeing eyes for him. Thoros and Jorah were fighting six Ironborn, when she joined the fray with Brandon. Brandon had ran to join Ned in battling Lord Balon Greyjoy. Lya was fighting a fierce Ironborn alone, when suddenly more came out of nowhere.

"Oh, Lord Euron, there's a bird in our midst," chortled one of Ironborn.

"Nah Cleftjaw, it's a she-wolf," leered the handsome, black haired Greyjoy dangerously. "Come here, darlin', I wanna hear you howl." He advanced towards her. Lya had raised her sword and fought off Euron well. "When Balon defeats yours and has his head on a spike, I want have a nice little prize as well to go with your brother's decapitated head."

"He won't defeat Ned. Your brother's fleet has been destroyed by Lord Baratheon. You are all losing," she had boasted with confidence. Euron grinned at her darkly.

"You greenlanders will fear the sight of my sails. Mark my words, pretty," Euron warned softly. "My elder nephews boasted they would take northern salt wives but alas, they are dead."

"You will follow them if you are stupid to try." Lyanna blocked his attacks and warily avoided being cornered. _He's talking to me to distract me._

"Ah, I like your feistiness, wolf girl," laughed Euron. He randomly asked, "I have heard your brother is hiding a dragon princess in the north. Is it true?" Lya did not answer Euron for she was distracted by her husband's face and heard Jorah growl with anger and kill men on his way over to protect her. Greyjoy seemed very amused by this, irritating Lyanna. Greyjoy should fear _her._ "Oh what a precious treasure you must be. It's alright, dearie, he can fish for you in the sea."

"Y've made the bear go all mad," laughed another Ironborn as Jorah's Longclaw clanged against his axe. "I have always wanted to see a bear fight. Only seen she-bears." Lyanna had looked at Jorah desperately with slight annoyance and relief, her face plead, _'I have got this, Jorah'_. But he had mistook it for genuine fear and so had Euron Greyjoy.

"Here's your chance, lad. Deal with him," barked Euron as he advanced towards her far more aggressively.

"Lyanna!" Jorah shouted. Lyanna had dodged the blow from behind just in time. She hadn't been fast enough to avoid the second. Her sword hand had bashed by a club and she dropped my sword, silently whelping in pain. Lyanna fought off Euron with her other hand, kicking him, biting him with all her might. A knife was at her throat and Euron tugged at Lya's dark hair. 

"Now, if you make a move, luv, I'll slit that pretty pale neck of yours. Tell your husband you want to come with me. Go on."

"Let her go," growled Jorah looking murderous. Lyanna's eyes watered from pain and wounded pride. She refused to think of what Euron would do to her if- no she wouldn't think of it. She caught glimpses Ned battling Lord Balon and Brandon roaring taunts at the Ironborn as he slew them. From the shouts of men on the either side, the Ironborn were losing badly. Euron in bitter fury sensed this and unceremoniously let her go without reason to. Jorah and Euron faced each other. Sounds of Balon's surrender stopped them from drawing each other's blood. Euron smiled wickedly at Lyanna.

"Your ugly bear gets to put me in chains today. But fear not, I will see you again, until then." Greatjon Umber pinned down Euron and Jorah knocked out Euron cold with his fists. Jorah walked over to Lya, crouching down. He asked as he inspected Lyanna's hand,

"Are you hurt anywhere else? Oh, my love." She shook her head and flung her arm around his neck. Lyanna was grateful for Jorah, but she felt bothered as well. Lyanna had believed her skill in fighting was far better than it was. She had vastly improved but she was no match for physically larger and more experienced men like Euron Greyjoy quite yet. Lyanna felt her wounded pride more than her injured hand. 

"I didn't want to have to be saved," she murmured as Jorah spoke soothing words, while everyone crowed their victory. Lya saw the unconscious Euron be dragged away in chains.

_"But fear not, I will see you again, until then." The curve of his blue tinged lips smiling at her._

Jorah picked up her sword and helped her up on her feet. "Let's get you to a maester, love." Lyanna nodded and kissed him on the cheek. As they walked over to Brandon and Ned, Lyanna glanced over her shoulder at the chained Euron Greyjoy.

_Fear not, I will kill you._

* * *

 As a result of the victory of royalists versus the rebelling Ironborn. Lord Balon Greyjoy was forced to kneel and swear fealty to King Eddard. King Eddard had taken the last son of Balon, a boy of nine, as a hostage to ensure Lord Balon's good behaviour. King Eddard had honoured Jorah with a knighthood for his bravery in battle. He knelt next to Jacelyn Bywater who also received a knighthood after losing his hand. It was a triumphant moment for Jorah for he had longed for a knighthood. It was sweeter that Lyanna was with him to witness this achievement, safe and alive. He was in a jubilant mood, amplified as he enjoyed his cups in Lannisport. Jorah wrapped his arm around Lyanna's waist. She leaned her head against his chest as she clanked her empty tankard down on the battered table of the tavern.

"Why did you need to be anointed by the High Septon? You are a northman, Jorah." Jorah had never been as reverent to the Old Gods as Lyanna and the majority of the people of the north were. 

"It's the proper way," he explained shrugging. If Jorah was going to be a knight he wanted to do it right.

"I suppose you will want to join the lists in the tourney in honour of my brother's victory," hypothesized Lyanna.

"I do," Jorah answered slowly, wondering if Lyanna was longing for the children. Jorah too wanted so see Jon and Eryn, but he wanted to compete in the tournament. He failed to not to show his disappointment for he could rarely deny Lyanna. Not after what could have happened. He should have never left her side for a second. Jorah's good mood sobered, brooding was about to begin. 

"Is there any particular reason, my bear?" Her grey eyes looked up at him questioningly. Jorah paused from taking another swig of his ale.  _Was it not obvious?_

"To win the tourney and to crown you my queen of love and beauty that's all," Jorah replied honestly, not sure of her expression in his drunken haze. Lyanna's cheeks were rosy from drink and her braided hair was coming undone. She snorted and looked down at her rather plain blue wool gown. Lyanna lifted her hand in its cast.

"I don't look like a queen of anything at the moment." Jorah frowned not understanding Lya's mood. Something was troubling her. 

"Are you upset by what happened?" he asked tenderly. "You are safe, I wouldn't have let him-" Jorah went red as he pictured Euron Greyjoy raping his Lya. He remembered her stoic face cracking with fear. Lyanna had looked younger than nineteen years. "You are so beautiful and brave. I should have- " Her mouth twisted, " Are you in pain?" Lyanna looked down. 

"Never mind that. Look, I'm well. You won't be bringing me home in a box," shrugged Lyanna, though she winced in pain. Jorah felt cold at the very thought of Lyanna, dead in a box to buried in the pine forest. She looked at him guiltily.  _  
_

"Lya," he began. _Perhaps she needs some milk of the poppy._  Lyanna sighed and smiled brightly. 

"People get wounded in war all the time," she interrupted as she kissed his chest. "My lord husband is now a knight. Will you let me have a sip of your ale, _ser_?" Jorah obliged and lifted the mug to her lips. Her face grew tender. "I am proud of you, my bear. My  _knighted_ bear. Kiss me, Ser Jorah." He obliged again, grinning at the sound of her voice say his new title. 

* * *

Lynesse was thrilled to be accompanying her lord father and her brothers to Lannisport for tourney. Of course, she was joyous for King Eddard's victory for it meant merriment and no more tension while Baelor and Father whispered in the council room. Malora would no longer fret of Ironborn ships sailing into their port, pillaging and raping their beautiful home.

_"Pray for the King's victory, little sister. You are sweet, and soft, my dove. They aren't a kind sort, those Ironborn. We should send you to Alerie." Lynesse shivered and looked out the sea with fear. The Ironborn were terrifying enough to warrant a suggestion to stay with her elder sister Alerie up in Highgarden._

_"Stop scaring her, Mally," ordered Humfrey placing a comforting hand on Lynesse's shoulder._

_"You and Bael spoil her. She needs to be less naive," warned Malora. "The world is not just balls, and merriment."_

Life had proven Malora wrong for it was merry. Dressed in a gold and white gown, which complimented her blonde tresses and creamy skin. Her blue eyes scanned the boisterous crowd of the nobility and the royals. Lynesse stood on her tiptoes to get a good look at the golden Queen Cersei and King Eddard. The proud Queen linked arms with the King who wore a face of aloofness. The King was far more handsomer with his full dark beard than his clean shaven face at the royal wedding, she noted. Queen Cersei wore her hair in a different style, that she had never seen before. Lynesse looked around at the other young ladies muttering to themselves. _By tomorrow, they will all have tried to recreate the Queen's look._

"The King's sister and her lord husband is here," announced Baelor, whose blue eyes followed the movements of the dark haired lady. "She fought in the war alongside her brother, the King and her lord husband. I have heard that Lord Mormont has been knighted for his bravery." Lynesse wrinkled her nose and stared at Lady Lyanna. The northern lady was dressed in an exquisite gown of blue-grey velvet with her sword at her thin waist. _No highborn lady walks around armed._ Lady Lyanna was stopped by Father to chat along with the younger Stark brother, the Lord of Dragonstone.

"Why would she want to do that?" wondered Lynesse perplexed. "Is she going to join the lists?" She laughed. Baelor smiled but never replied for Father had beckoned him over to join the conversation with Lady Lyanna and the Lord of Dragonstone. Lynesse scanned around and found Lord Jorah Mormont stood a few feet away from his lady wife with some other lords and knights. He seemed taller, and swarthier than she remembered. Mormont wore the same dark green velvet doublet. Lynesse thought him practical to not bring his finest clothes, since he had just been in a war. At the royal wedding, she had thought Lord Jorah looked much like the Warrior, especially with the tales of his feats in battle.

_He said I looked like a goddess-the Maid herself come to earth. So gracefully in dance for such a tall, burly man._

But it was the Wild Wolf, the King's elder, far more handsomer brother that caught her eye. He strode over and clapped Lord Mormont's shoulder jovially. She glanced over at her brothers and Father still engrossed with talking to the youngest Stark lord. Her tiny Tyrell niece was betrothed to the last available Stark. Lynesse was comforted by the fact that little Margaery would be marrying the least handsome of the Starks. Lynesse wanted to marry a knight of song with a plentiful amount of pretty things.

 _He's too thin._ _Brandon Stark is the handsomest man here. If Ser Jaime had not been slain, he would have been the most beautiful man._

"Hello, my lords," Lynesse greeted sweetly as she walked up to Lord Stark and Lord Mormont. "I heard of your valour during the siege, my lords. His Grace was right to knight you for your achievements."

"Thank you, my lady," thanked Lord Jorah with a polite smile. She heard from behind her, the laughter of Baelor and unfamiliar feminine laughter. Lord Mormont's eyes flickered away from Lynesse's face. She made a quick glance over her shoulder to the recipient of Lord Mormont's intense gaze. 

"Are you joining the lists?" Lynesse asked with a long glance at both men's strong arms. _It was a shame I had been born the youngest daughter, she thought as she stared at Lord Stark._

"I have," the charming Lord Stark replied, staring back at her. Lord Mormont was still engrossed with Lady Lyanna who was talking to Lynesse's brother Baelor.

"I shall cheer for you, my lord." Lynesse complimented the inattentive Lord Mormont, "Your lady wife must be very proud of you. Are you joining the lists, ser?" She gave an arch look at Lord Stark who glanced over at her and winked at her. His handsome grey eyes roamed her body before looking away to continue conversing to his squire who had came over. Lynesse flushed, pleased she hadn't listened to her Septa and wore the chaste yellow gown. Lord Stark had seemed too wild and barbarically northern back at royal wedding.

_He's barbarically sensual._

"I am, my lady," answered Lord Mormont distractedly.

"How lovely," she sighed softly looking at his far more handsome good brother. Lord Jorah excused himself and Lynesse forced herself to look away from Brandon Stark. Lynesse turned and watched Lord Jorah walk over to his lady wife. He bent his head and whispered in her ear. Lady Lyanna looked at Lord Jorah lovingly, before giving Lynesse an odd look. Lynesse averted her eyes. As she walked to the pavilion, a voice spoke to her from behind,

"My lady." Lynesse flushed and spun around. Lord Benjen bowed his head politely. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you. I am Benjen Stark of Winterfell and Dragonstone."

"Lady Lynesse Hightower of Oldtown," she introduced with a curtsey. Benjen had bright, piercing blue eyes. His nose was bit big for his thin face, but it wasn't absurdly overwhelming. He was an unmarried lord though. "You are in charge of the navy, my lord?" Perhaps he was more interesting than she had assumed.

"Lord Stannis Baratheon is the master of ships. I mostly train soldiers on Dragonstone," explained Lord Benjen.

"Oh," she smiled though she didn't really care. Lynesse wanted to go back to staring at Lord Brandon Stark or find some sweet wine. "It must be boring having to wait for my niece to be old enough to wed." Lord Benjen shrugged.

"I hadn't put much thought in marrying. Are you betrothed yourself?"

"No," she answered candidly with frown. "I want to marry badly though. To marry a rich lord like my sister Alerie." _A knight of song and with all the prettiest things._ Her unfortunate order of birth would not prevent her from living the life she wanted. A handsome life outside of Oldtown. Lynesse would not spend the rest of her days like Malora, even if childbearing didn't not interest her. "Are you in the tourney as well?"

"Just spectating, my lady. I was wondering if you would honour me with your company during the tourney?" Lynesse flashed a flirtatious courtier smile at the young Stark.

"I would be honoured to, my lord," she simpered as she took his arm. 

Lynesse watched the tournament with fascination. She glanced at Benjen Stark next to her.

"Why have you asked me to sit with you, my lord? I wouldn't want to cause trouble with my lady sister." Though if she did usurp her niece and married Lord Benjen Stark, she would have every opportunity to go to King's Landing for the frivolity, whilst Lord Benjen attended at the tedious Small Council meetings. _Why couldn't Father bother to find me a good husband like he did for my sisters?_ He didn't look at her as he drank his ale.

"My brother wants to dance with you." Lynesse turned to gaze at Lord Brandon as he rode to face Lord Jorah. Lynesse knew she shouldn't be tempted by this man, who was said to have fathered the late Lady Ashara Dayne's bastard. By the disappointed sighs of nearly every female in the crowd, he tempted them all.

"Oh," she managed with a smile on her fair face. She sat up straighter, when Lord Brandon rode out to challenge Lord Jorah. Lynesse gasped in shock when Lord Jorah unhorsed the handsome Lord Brandon Stark. She clutched her breast as she watched the red faced Brandon Stark stood up and walked off. Without either realizing it, Benjen and Lynesse's hands were entwined as they watched in anticipation at who would be the victor of the tournament. Lord Mormont had defeated the last challenger and won the tourney. There was no surprise crowning at this tourney. Lord Jorah Mormont had crowned his lady wife, the Lady Lyanna. Everyone smiled and cheered as he placed a crown of blue winter and snow white roses on her head. Lynesse was slightly disappointed none of the jousters had asked for her favour though she sat nearer to the Queen and King. 

Lynesse had indulged in the sweet wine during the feast and was walking to the northern nobles' tents. Lord Brandon hadn't come to claim a dance with her though she noted he looked over at her many times throughout the feast. Lynesse slipped away from Humphrey and Baelor who were merrily inebriated. Ahead of her was Lord Jorah and Lady Lyanna. Lord Mormont had been in his cups from his post victory jubilant mood throughout the feast. Lynesse had noticed his drunken grins as Lady Lyanna kissed him. His intense devotion of his lady wife was plain to see. The tall, burly man was leading his beautiful lady wife with her thin pale hand in his large swarthy hand to their tent. Lady Lyanna giggled tipsily, her flower crown slightly askew. Lord Mormont's plain yellowing shirt was undone revealing a very hair chest and he wore a blue cloth around his neck that matched the blue of the roses.

"My bear," Lady Mormont's voice gasped from inside their tent. Lynesse glanced at the tent as she walked past. She saw the silhouettes of their entwined figures. Lynesse discreetly slipped inside Lord Brandon Stark's grander tent.

"If he wasn't Lya's husband, I would be furious," complained Lord Brandon drunkenly as he removed his shirt. Lynesse gaped at the sight of his chiseled broad chest.

"You jousted well, brother," spoke Lord Benjen's voice, there was a hint of amusement at his elder's defeat. "I shall bid you a good night."

"Good night, Ben." Lynesse hid behind Lord Brandon's armour as Lord Benjen exited the tent.

"Are you hurt, my lord?" she asked with the brazenness that sweet wine gave her. As she revealed her presence, Lord Brandon was in the process of removing his trousers. "Lord Benjen told me you wished for me to reserve a dance with you. I was wondering, since you didn't come to dance with me." Her blue eyes travelled to his exposed cock.

"I am well enough to dance now, my lady," assured Lord Brandon as they gazed at each other's beauty. He grinned as he picked her up and twirled her around in his magnificent arms. "Would you like a fast or slow dance?" He kissed her as his hands deftly unlaced her gown. They kissed each other eagerly. Lynesse lay back on the bed and caressed him as he kissed her neck.

"I want us to dance all night," she moaned as his lips made their way to her breasts and as he slipped two fingers inside her. She uttered unladylike words as she became wet for Brandon Stark. He smiled at her wolfishly and Lynesse learned that Brandon Stark was very passionate in making love. Brandon took awhile despite being drunk before he spent himself inside her. She had expected him to spill on her on stomach every time they made love. But she didn't fear for she had the means to procure moon tea. Lord Brandon had dozed off but he woke up as he became hard again by her hands and mouth. Lynesse did not want to waste any time for she would have to make it back to her tent before she was found missing. Lord Brandon took her on her hands and knees like how wolves mate. Lynesse was not sure that she loved that position, but was pleased when he proclaimed her beauty numerous times. Lord Brandon fell asleep with his head on her chest. Lynesse stroked his dark curls, imagining being a lady of her own castle to do as she pleased. She should have left before morning came but sleep claimed her. 

"Shame, I only have little time to love your perfection again, my lady," sighed Lord Brandon as they woke in the morn. Lynesse mewed her own disappointment. How she liked to imagine he had asked for her favour and crowned her queen of love and beauty. They would marry today and she would be a lady wife of a _lord._ Not a mere minor knight like her other sisters had married. Lynesse would not care a twit if the lord was handsome or not.  _It would be an added bonus._

"I wish we could remain lovers," she declared partially in seriousness. Brandon grinned at Lynesse and leaned in for a kiss. Lynesse had been not mindful of the time for Lord Brandon's squire had entered,

"My lord-" Brandon groaned like a disappointed child. Lynesse's cheeks warmed. "Um- His Grace, the King requests you-"

"Ned," cursed Brandon aloud. "Ethan, make sure Lady Lynesse makes it back to her to tent unnoticed. My lady, I have had a pleasure dancing with you."

"Likewise, my lord." They kissed once more before Brandon hastily dressed to meet with his brother, the King. Lynesse haughtily dressed before this Ethan, who withered under her proud looks.

"Lace me?" Ethan fumbled with her laces, nervously. He was a russet haired young man of her age. "You must think I have brought myself to the level of a common whore." 

"No-no my lady. You aren't the first highborn lady my lord has- You seem sweet, my lady. However, my lord's lady wife is a good woman-" _Lady Stark._ Lynesse almost laughed at her silly drunken notion that Lord Brandon would ask for her lord father for her hand in marriage in the morn. 

"I take it northern lords don't have mistresses," she said flatly. Ethan spluttered, reddening as he led them out of the tent. "Don't fret. If I am going make a mistress of myself. It will be for more than a handsome face." _The lord's wife and daughters will grow in fear of me._

"The Starks have honour." Lynesse gave a sideways glance at this loyal Ethan.

"So I have heard. If I may be frank, I think Lord Brandon's moral compass is ruled by his cock than his sense of honour. One day, a beautiful young woman will not settle to be just a dalliance-"

"Are you that lady?" asked Ethan sharply, in loyalty to his lord's wife, Lady Catelyn. Lynesse only smirked with a shrug.

They had thought they had not been noticed, when a voice called out to Lynesse. Lynesse turned her head nervously. However, it was only the homely dwarf. The son of Lord Tywin Lannister. _Tyrett?_ His ugly mismatched eyes looked her in the eye.

"Good morning, my lord. I went for a morning walk and got lost. Ser Ethan was so kind to direct me back to my tent," she explained incase he thought it was curious for her to be walking about. 

"My lady, I almost mistook you for one of my Lannister cousins, but you are far lovelier," slurred the dwarf walking unevenly to her. He held an empty cup.  

"Are you sure it is not the wine?" Lynesse arched a brow and flashed a false smile.

"Forgive me, I haven't spent much time outside of Casterly Rock." _I should think not._ "I haven't been allowed to see such beauty in the flesh." Lynesse smiled at the compliment even if it came from a dwarf. She was gallant enough to bend down and offer her hand for a kiss. This ugly, unwanted heir of Casterly Rock kissed her hand improperly. Lynesse turned her head to Lord Brandon's squire.

"I relieve you of your duty. Thank your lord for me." The young man nodded, bowed and went his way with relief.

"I should find my lord father. Forgive me-"

"Perhaps, you would like to sup with me, my lady?" asked Tyrion Lannister shyly, his eyes on her. Lynesse smiled politely though she wanted to wrinkle her nose in disdain. _I would rather sup with Lord Brandon. I would rather sup with anyone but you._  She thought of an appropriate and polite decline to his invitation.

"My Lynesse would be honoured to," answered Father's voice. Lynesse looked up at Father in surprise. Baelor and Humfrey looked mildly repulsed on her behalf. Lynesse's mouth hung open but managed nothing. Tyrion Lannister smiled, kissed her hand again and bowed. He spoke an eloquent line of counting the moments till then that would have taken Lynesse's breath away. _If he weren't a-_

"Father, I-" she began. "I don't wish to sup with a dwarf."

"The heir of Casterly Rock, little Lynnie," boomed Father proudly as they entered the tents of House Hightower.

"He's a dwarf, Father," protested Baelor who always protected her. "The _despised_ son of Tywin Lannister. Lord Tywin would rather his daughter, the queen inherit Casterly Rock or his brother Ser Kevan. " Humfrey nodded.

Father seemed to not hear. "Dwarf or not, he is Tywin's only living son now. I had a knight in mind for you but perhaps- If not the dwarf, maybe Lord Tywin will remarry. Or perhaps a marriage to a nephew of Lord Lannister." Father trailed off with a thoughtful face. Lynesse gaped in horror, but Father smiled benignly not seeming to notice his children's mixed feelings. "Little Lynnie, you could be the Lady of Casterly Rock. Two of my daughters married to Lord Paramounts." Father turned to her and shook his head at her wrinkled gown from last night. "Put on a fresh gown, and do something with your hair, my child." Lynesse nodded and touched her tousled blonde curls.   

When Father was out of earshot, Baelor gave her a comforting hug.

"Oh sweet sister," sighed Baelor with a less than bright smile. "You'll make the best of this." 

"What of happiness?" complained idealistic Humfrey. Lynesse almost wished her lord father and brothers had caught in bed with Lord Stark than have to sup with such a horrid half-man. 

* * *

It had been mere moons, since Greyjoy's failed rebellion. Cersei was in her solar, attending to business, when her lord uncle came requesting to speak with her. Ned was in the throne room, listening to petitioners. Cersei missed sitting on the Iron Throne, dispensing rulings, and justice. _War is over._  Ned was back in her bed at night, where he belonged. Her mind wandered for a moment to their reunion at Lannisport. She snapped back to reality as Uncle Kevan mentioned Tyrion. She frowned at her Uncle Kevan as he revealed that the little monster had fallen in love with a daughter of Lord Hightower.

"No longer interested in the whores in the brothels?" she quipped both disinterested yet annoyed by this news. Cersei began to wonder how this _love story_ had occurred.

"So it would seem. I would prefer he take a wife in one of the vassals' daughters like what Tywin had planned for Jaime. But-"

"We are giving the Reach too much. The Florents in the Stormlands. My good brother to marry Lord Tyrell's daughter. Now another." Uncle Kevan gave her a look.

"Which lord's daughter will you approve for your brother, Your Grace?"

_No one._

"I will have another son. He will inherit Casterly Rock, when Father dies."  _I'd rather die than see my home ruled by the thing that killed Mother._

"The boy will be a Stark. Tyrion is your lord father's trueborn son and now heir, Your Grace. You speak of the Reach marrying into every house. There are Starks of Winterfell, King's Landing, Dragonstone, and if you get your way there will be Starks of Casterly Rock. My brother did not build his Lannister legacy for-" Peals of laughter interrupted Uncle Kevan. It was the little devil and his giggling Hightower girl. The guard came in,

"Your Grace, your brother and Lady Lynesse Hightower wish to speak with you." She gave an irritated wave.

Cersei's green eyes widened as she recognized the glittering precious ruby and gold earbobs and necklace on the silly blonde girl. Her mouth curved into a snarl.

"Where did you get that? You- whore," Cersei spat out in fury as she made her way to the little thief. The Hightower girl did not jump like she had once at Cersei's voice. Lynesse haughtily curtseyed and smiled.

"Your brother kindly gifted them to me, Your Grace."

"Those were my lady mother's," seethed Cersei. "Hand them over." She held out her hand imperiously. Lady Lynesse Hightower smiled even more and gave a little laugh. Her fair curls bounced.

"Yes, they were, Your Grace. Sweet Tyrion was so generous to trust me with such sentimental jewels. I'm afraid I cannot hand them over. You see you have no claim to them, Your Grace. They are the jewels for the Lady of Casterly Rock. Not the crown jewels."

"As if you will ever become the Lady of Casterly Rock," laughed Cersei. "Father won't allow it." She glared at them both with a smug smile.

"Father has given his blessing, sister," announced the Imp with his crooked smile. "We came to tell you the news ourselves, my queen." He made a bow, which Cersei saw as mocking.

"We are to be sisters," exclaimed Lynesse Hightower sweetly, and possessed the audacity to kiss Cersei on the cheeks.

"Thrilling," gritted Cersei with venom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did well with the Euron bit and I hope I haven't portrayed Lynesse horribly. I quite like her. A more spoiled version of Margaery.  
> No Tysha and her horrifying rape in my story. 
> 
> Brandon will be a good boy once he is back in the North.  
> Next chapter will have the Ned x Cersei reunion.


	9. IX

_Lynesse lounged in the opulent guest quarters of Casterly Rock, drinking in her surroundings with a smug smile. She had taken a bath in rosewater, whilst watching the sunset set. The glow of sun reflecting on the sea water. Her pale pink robe was lazily untied in the front. She had spent the day following Tyrion Lannister around. They spent a great deal of time in the library, his favourite spot in the castle. Lynesse couldn't wrapped her mind at the sheer size of the castle. Casterly Rock was by far the largest castle she had ever seen, larger than Highgarden. It was like city within great stone walls. Tyrion was very smitten with her. He flushed, when she bestowed a chaste kiss on the lips out of boredom as he pulled out boring tomes of books. Tyrion was both ugly and not the knightly ideal she had fantasied. Lynesse had to admit he was very attentive and well with his words. He was very clever and she was very beautiful._

_"My lady, His lordship has sent his page to see you," her maid announced. Lynesse sat up and tucked her robe around her. It was a late hour for a visit. She nodded and the page came in carrying a stack of finely carved mahogany boxes._

_"His lordship requests that you give your opinion on which is the most beautiful," said the page as he opened the boxes before her. Lynesse gaped at the exquisite jewelry. Large stones of emeralds and rubies on finely intricate gold chains fit for a queen. Lynesse was drawn to the necklace with rubies and pointed at them._

_"Tell His Lordship, that I find this one to be the most beautiful," she instructed as she touched the largest ruby in the shape of a teardrop. The page bowed and left with the boxes of jewelry._

Lynesse was giggling at Tyrion's jests. She fell back on the silk cushions breathing heavily from laughing. Lynesse noticed Tyrion's eyes fall on the rapid rise and fall of her chest, wondering if he would ask for a kiss.

"I shall miss your jests, when I am back home at Oldtown." Tyrion looked in pain at the thought of her leaving.

"I shall miss your sweet laughter, my lady." Tyrion had a look of a desperate man in love. "Oh, come with me to King's Landing. I'll write to your lord father." He could speak eloquently like a well educated man but his age sometimes betrayed him.

"Do you not think I am too old for you?" she asked partially asking herself if he was too young at fourteen years old for her almost seventeen years.

"No, my lady. You are too beautiful," he expressed. Lynesse flushed at the compliment. Tyrion was in awe of her voluptuous figure and doll like face. He walked to his desk and opened the drawer. Lynesse's blue eyes sparkled at the familiar dark reddish box. She should have known Tyrion hadn't merely asked her opinion.

"I was going to have something made for you, but the goldsmith suggested that ladies like rubies best. He said this necklace was once my lady mother's." He paused and took her hand in his. "I hope you shall take it as a token of my great admiration for you."

"It's beautiful, Tyrion. Thank you," she gushed smiling. She knelt on her knees to let him clasp the necklace around her neck. Lynesse frowned slightly at Tyrion as his story about a goldsmith making a suggestion of what she would like differed from the event of three nights past. Perhaps it was a courtly love spectacle that she needed to play along. Lynesse picked up the earbobs from the red velvet lined box.

"Oh I could smother you with kisses, my sweet lord," she declared with an excited laugh. Tyrion gulped.

"I'm glad you like it, my lady. I wouldn't object to being smothered by your kisses." Lynesse donned the earbobs that were formerly Joanna Lannister's. She patted the crimson silk settee, beckoning him to sit or lie atop it. However, at complete random Tyrion was called away, before he could even receive a thank you kiss from his lady love. Tyrion cursed as he was forced away to attend some business. Lynesse blew him a kiss farewell, while he promised not to be long. She then preened at her own beauty in the looking glass. Lynesse was lost in her own thoughts that she did not notice she was not alone.

"It suits you," complimented a deep voice. Lynesse stilled as she saw the reflection of Lord Tywin Lannister behind her.

"So generous of you to allow your son to gift me such gorgeous pieces, my lord." she thanked as she turned to look at perhaps the most powerful man in Westeros.

"He is no son of mine," Lord Tywin corrected coldly, his green eyes flecked with gold stared at her appraisingly. Lynesse curtsied graciously. Lynesse would soon come to the slow realization that with the ruby necklace around her neck, she was now in the middle of whatever was between the Lord Lannister and his despised son. Vain, and pampered that she was, Lynesse was no fool to not realize this.

"You have my gratitude, my lord. For allowing me to stay in your castle and for this." She touched the necklace, "My lord, may I ask a question?" Lord Tywin nodded his assent. Lynesse took two steps closer to the Lord of Casterly Rock.

"Are you, my lord, courting me? Or is Tyrion?" She dared not refer to Tyrion as his son again. Lynesse wanted to know his intentions. Lord Tywin's mouth curved slightly.

"You will be the mother of a Lannister heir," he replied. Lynesse smiled though she wanted to frown in confusion. It was not the answer she was expecting at all. _What does he want from me? Does he want me for himself?_

"And which Lannister will be sharing my marital bed?" Lynesse cocked her fair head at this intimidating man. He was a man like all men. It was true that Tywin Lannister's great love was his deceased lady wife, after all he had never remarried. She very doubted he had remained celibate for the decade and a half since Joanna's death. His stern, piercing eyes roved from her face to the teardrop ruby rested atop her bosom. _I am in the great lion's den and he is going to devour me whole._ Lynesse would be seduced by this if Tywin Lannister were not so formidable and terrifying. _The Rains of Castamere, she shuddered internally._ He may old enough to be her father but he was fit and still held a comely face. "You- you must want another son, one more like Ser J-Jaime." Tywin looked almost thoughtful. He looked at her as if he were seeing someone else. 

"That's an idea, my lady," he conceded, he cleared his throat. "Nevertheless, he will ask for my permission to ask for your hand in marriage. I may say yes after some thought. I must appear that I prefer one of my vassals' daughters over you. I do prefer them or for him to not marry at all." _To be rid of him you mean._

"Of course," she said haughtily. Lord Tywin smirked with what could be deemed pleasure.

"Behind that vapid, pompous, fair face of yours is something I can perhaps admire." Tywin did not speak so nice as Tyrion did when he bestowed compliments. If one could meld Lord Tywin's physicality with Tyrion's clever, flattering wit, Lynesse would be heaven. Tywin Lannister turned to leave.

"You are using me because Tyrion is fond of me. You could just hurt him now if that's your intention and marry me yourself, my lord," Lynesse suggested without thinking at what she had proposed. 

"You want power and my wealth, my lady," Lord Tywin said. He eyed the necklace around her neck. "You wouldn't have entertained him otherwise. Lord Tully refused Tyrion's suit for his daughter." Lynesse gave him a hard look. "I could send you home and marry him off to Lady Elena Serrett or a daughter of Lord Marbrand." Lynesse smiled gaily as if he didn't just made a light threat. She dipped into a demure curtsey. Looking around the opulence of her surroundings, Lynesse would not give up a chance to marry into the most powerful house in Westeros. She wished to live in Casterly Rock for the rest of her days as its lady. 

She propositioned him, "However, you could keep me for yourself? He would detest you for marrying me instead. I would give you a son, many sons. Not your Jaime but just as worthy of being the future heir of Casterly Rock." His green eyes deepened and they roved to her healthy hips, she had gotten his attention. She came from a fertile lady mother. 

"Would you still prefer I bestow you a _daughterly_  kiss of gratitude for the necklace, my lord?" Lynesse's upturn face brushed a kiss a hair away from his lips. He looked like he wanted to create a golden son to replace the son he had lost. However, Tywin merely adjusted his beloved lady wife's necklace on Lynesse. 

"My lord father had a whore, whom he clad in my lady mother's jewels. Tyrion has always had a depraved liking for whores even for his young age. You can imagine my surprise, my lady, when I learned he fancied a highborn maiden." Lynesse smiled serenely, yet she went cold. _Does he know I am far from a maiden?_ "Such a fair one." His voice was silky, like a caress. He turned her around as if they were in a dance. Her back flush against his chest. He led them to the window, where she had imagined she was the Maiden in the clouds for she could see for days and the town below was so small. Lynesse's heart pounded with nervousness as Lord Lannister held her against him. Taking his hand in her smaller one, she placed it on her flat stomach, reminding him again that she could give him what he wanted a son, a legacy for Casterly Rock. 

"Or would you wish me to repay your generosity with the kiss of a  _wife._ " She could feel him think deeply about the idea of marrying her and siring a heir to leave Casterly Rock, when he died. His fingers brushed the rich fabric over her maidenly flat stomach for several minutes. 

"A mere kiss won't be enough, Lynesse Hightower," Lord Tywin Lannister said at last. He strode out of the chamber, soundlessly. Lynesse shivered despite the warm spring breeze from the open window. Lynesse trembled as she sat down on the settee and her eyes watered as she stared at the becoming ruby masterpiece. She was torn with wanting to become the Lady of Casterly Rock and wishing she were back home in Oldtown. _Humfrey will be here soon, he will know what to do._ Lynesse was growing concerned of the reaction of Tyrion if he should learned of her unmaidenly experience. She expected to dupe him based on his youth. What did Lord Tywin want of her? Would he marry her? Should she sit and wait for him to decide? 

"Lynesse, my lady, is something the matter?" Tyrion's voice was full of concern, when he returned. Lynesse decided rashly that she would tell him the truth.

"I'm not worthy of this," she cried in careful theatrics. Lynesse dramatically went on her knees, before the bewildered Tyrion. "I must leave and return home. You have been so kind, and sweet to me." Tyrion frowned.

"What are you talking about? You are a pillar of perfection, my lady. I don't wish for you to go. What is distressing you? Perhaps I can help." She shook her fair head looking down despondently. Praying her gamble would prove fruitful.

"I owe you the truth, my lord." Lynesse removed his lady mother's jewels from her body and placed them into his heads.

"Lynesse?" He looked confused yet he was a clever lad. Tyrion would learn sooner than later.

"I'm not a maid, Tyrion," Lynesse confessed in a whisper, before letting out a sob. "I- I have lain with a man before. I was silly and young. He made promises to me and I believed him. I was so stupid." Tyrion was shocked and disappointed. "Please find it in your heart to forgive me, Tyrion." Lynesse made the pitiful sounds of a distraught creature. "I care so much for you. You have treated me like a princess and make me laugh with your clever words. I shall never forget you, my lord." Lynesse with tears streaming down her beautiful face, kissed Tyrion's cheek.

Lynesse left his chamber despite his protests to stay. She made the spectacle of having her things packed in a flurry. Lynesse wrote a short tearstained letter and had it sent to Tyrion. Lynesse went to bed without a reply from Tyrion. She cried herself thinking she had botched things. _I should have waited for Humfrey._ He came in the night to her chamber. How he came unnoticed by the maids she did not know. Lynesse shuddered from nervousness. Was he going to hurt her like they said dwarfs did in anger? Bastards and dwarfs were said to be deviant.

"Have you come to take me? Since I am already ruined," she asked trembling like a lamb. Tyrion shook his head and raised his hands up. He was hurt but unsurprised by her fear of him.

"I am no monster, despite what people say." She sighed with relief and wondered why he climbed into her bed. "Oh please don't cry no more. It pains me to see you so distressed. I pray I could have saved you from that horrid man who ill used you. I am never going to be a knight but I promise I will be a true husband to you. Oh, Lynesse, I love you so dearly."

"Truly? Even if I am not-" she asked shakily. _He still wants me. Of course he does, her vanity crowed._ Lynesse could not believe her ears. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to elaborate.

"I realized how I love you, when I read your letter. I don't want you to leave tomorrow." He kissed her with such passion. Quite well for a half-man of fourteen.

"Gods, I want you, Tyrion," Lynesse lied as she felt him against her. "I don't wish to be parted from you. I want to be with you. I wish to be your lady wife. I shall die if you marry someone else." She placed his hand over her heart. Tyrion smiled happily. _No, elated._

"I never dreamed someone so beautiful could love me. You will come with me to King's Landing as my betrothed," he declared. "I promise." Lynesse kissed him profusely. They were both struggling with their physical desires. She was curious as to what it would be like to make love with Tyrion. Both wanting the other to believe that they were more chaste than they were in practice. Lynesse pretended to be ignorant of the knowledge that Tyrion visited the brothels in Lannisport.

"You have made me the happiest woman in the world," Lynesse exclaimed. "I shall have the sweetest dreams now." Tyrion kissed her.

"And I of you. More than wicked than sweet if I may be honest." Lynesse lay in bed fully awake after he had left with the widest grin. She had completely forgotten about the fact that the decision lay with Lord Tywin. 

* * *

Ned waited and watched as the ornate wheelhouse carrying his beautiful wife, came closer and closer. He had combed and groomed his hair and beard. Knowing his queen was fussy about appearances. He missed her greatly though she likely had not. Cersei had been cold towards him in the days before he left King's Landing. He shifted his feet impatiently as the wheelhouse stopped before him and the bloody crowd. The door was opened and a young Lannister cousin of hers helped her down. Cersei was dressed in the red gown, he liked best on her. Other than the two northern style gowns in grey and summer green, which she had only worn once. It bared her shoulders, though a traveling cloak covered them. Her hair was loose and she walked gracefully towards him and curtsied before him. They kissed but not too long for they were in front of a throng of people. Cersei congratulated him on his victory and addressed his commanders, and soldiers praising their valour and thanking them on behalf of the people of the Seven Kingdoms. Cersei took his offered arm with a smile.

"You are alive," she breathed with the most emotion he had ever seen her express that wasn't anger or coldness that rivalled the winter winds. _She's loving towards Robb and her daughters, he amended._ Her hand slipped into his, tightly. He glanced at her as she smiled serenely at their subjects. She rubbed her finger against his callused one. Cersei looked up at him briefly. Her green eyes and her relaxed face conveyed more than words. Ned gave a half smile in return, before they returned their public of nobles and small folk. Ned's face tightened with impatience for it would be hours until they could be alone in private.

"You sent me one letter, Ned," she growled at him, when they dismissed their servants for the night. "I waited for word from you."

"I had little time to write, Cersei," he explained with some remorse."I'm sorry. Let me make it up to you." She embraced him and purred as she rubbed her head on his shoulder. Her traveling cloak was removed and discarded on a chair. The jewels on her gown glittered in the candlelight.

"Robb and the girls well?" he asked. She nodded and kissed him deeply. Ned looked at her in eye, when the kiss ended. "I've missed you, wife." Ned expected a smug smile and a toss of her golden curls.

_Of course you did, she would say._

"I missed you as well," admitted Cersei reluctantly. "I missed you from my bed that's all," she corrected herself looking away from him. Ned chuckled though he was slightly disappointed that she still struggled to remove the shadow of Robert. They had the time to build love between them even if it were slow. Ned was hopeful that one day, Robert will only live on in Cersei's heart through their daughters. Ned struggled with wanting Cersei to love him and with the guilt of that want.

Cersei lay with her head on his chest with Ned's arms around her. Ned was reflecting on the very slight change between them. Cersei seemed different.

"Ned, do you believe in prophecies?" Ned blinked in surprise at the question.

"I have never heard one myself," he answered slowly. Cersei traced circles on his chest as she recounted,

"I was told my future by a woman here in Lannisport, when I was a girl. The tourney for King Aerys. Three of us went to her hut. Jeyne ran off frightened by the look of the witch, when we woke her. Maggy the Frog, they called her. Anyways, Melara and I remained and I wouldn't leave without my future told to me. So she tasted my blood and told me of my morrows."

"What did you ask this witch?" Ned was curious for she rarely spoke of her childhood and Ned never prodded for she was sensitive in talking about anything related to her twin brother, Jaime.

"I asked her if Prince Rhaegar and I would wed. She replied no. She said I would marry a king, who was first a soldier. I asked if I would be queen and she said yes-" 

"That you have." Cersei bit her lip then continued,

"I then asked if the king and I would have children." Ned thought of their small son, Robb. _We clearly have a child together._

"How many children are we to have?" He kissed the crown of her head.

"I remember she said I will have eight and we will have five." She has three girls by Robert and a son by me. Four more. Ned found it odd to know the number of children he would sire, if this fortune teller was to be believed. "Did you ask anything else?" She shook her golden head. 

"Melaria did," she said reluctantly. 

"What was the fortune of your friend?" Cersei stiffened in his arms.

"She asked if she would marry Jaime," she stated flatly. Ned knew the answer to this fortune. Jaime had died unmarried.

"I'm sure her husband must be pleased by this," Ned laughed. "I am certainly pleased you had not wed Prince Rhaegar." She did not smile or laugh.

"Melara has no husband, Ned. She died that very night like that old woman said she would." Ned frowned feeling pity for the poor dead girl, then stilled at "like that old woman said she would". 

"I'm sorry, love," Ned empathized for he knew the pain of losing his childhood friends. _Though not so young._

"She died in a well," Cersei uttered in matter of fact tone, devoid of emotion. Cersei closed her eyes for a few moments then stared up at Ned.

"Ned, the children-" Ned soothed her what he assumed was a fear for their children and the still yet to be born children would die young like her childhood friend Melara.

"The children shall live happy, long lives." Ned ran his hand through her golden curls. He loved her long, curling hair. "I hope we have at least a child or two with your hair. A little girl with your blonde curls."

"They will be safe," spoke Cersei more to her self. "That old woman can piss on her prophecy." Ned did not understand what was wrong with the prophecy of five children with him. Cersei had wanted to be queen and she was.

"What did she say about the children?" he asked against his better judgement. Cersei sat up and stared at the dying fire. She whispered, 

"That all of my children will die before I shall. A valonquar shall come to kill me. I know it is _Tyrion_." Ned's smile died at the words of their children dying, but he was shocked that Cersei seemed to believe this.

"Your brother?" he scoffed. "I know you hate him for whatever reason, but he seems-"

"He is a monster who killed my mother. Maggy said he would come to strangle me."

"You and the children shall not die unnatural deaths. Not whilst I live," he assured. "We shall see them marry and have their own."

"But she was right about you," Cersei insisted. "She was right about Melara and-" she looked at her hands, "me." Ned did not know to counter that. His mind wandered back to Howland Reed and to the arid heat of their journey in Dorne.

_"You can't prevent the visions you see," Howland explained as the red sand blew around them._

_"But your green dreams are different than this prophecy that Rhaegar believed my sister had a part in?" Ned did not need much of an imagination to know how she would have been used. He had no idea what the so-called prophecy entailed just that Rhaegar had tried to abduct his beloved sister._

_"Prophecies are tricky," spoke Howland vaguely, "They can destroy those who try to prevent or fulfil them."_

"Forget it, Cersei," he ordered gently. Ned was pleased when she changed the subject.

"Is the Greyjoy boy to be our ward in King's Landing or are you sending him off with your brother like you did with the Targaryen girl?"

* * *

"Catelyn!" Brandon shouted as he dismounted from his horse, when he arrived home to Winterfell. He ran to her and picked her up twirling her around. Catelyn was out of breath, when they broke their kiss. 

"Welcome home, Brandon," she laughed. Arya and Rickon squealed as Brandon lifted both of them into a hug. 

"You beat the bad squids, Fatha'!" Arya shouted. 

Brandon had regaled them all with the details of the battles. Catelyn interrupted him, when he cursed or began to speak of gory details in front of the children. Arya and Rickon begged to sleep with them that night. Catelyn and Brandon exchanged a look that both said they would prefer to be alone. However, Arya and Rickon were tucked in-between them. Catelyn smiled at the gifts Brandon brought them all from Lannisport. Arya squealed more at her toy sword than at the doll. Rickon was pleased with his stuffed horse making horse noises. Catelyn would have preferred Arya to play with dolls, but Brandon took joy in Arya's interests in boy pursuits. 

"For you, Cat," smiled Brandon as he brandished a parcel for her. "I wish you could been there. I was bored without you, sweetheart. Queen Cersei came to see Ned. Lyanna and Jorah were already there." 

"I wish I could have come," she lamented, touched that he missed her and wanted her there. 

"Motha' open the prewsent," demanded Arya impatiently. Catelyn smiled but raised an eyebrow. "Pwease," added Arya. Brandon laughed and ruffled Arya's brown hair. Catelyn with Rickon's help unraveled the paper. 

"Oh, Brandon," Catelyn gasped at the fine gold hand looking glass and matching hair brush. 

"Pwetty," exclaimed Arya in equal approval. 

"I also got some bolts of cloth for gowns and such. I hope you like it," Brandon said pleased at their reaction. Catelyn leaned over with some difficulty to kiss her sweet husband. "I know I would have won the tourney if you had been there. Jorah was just lucky." Catelyn smiled. "I remember going with my lord father to dispense justice to some deserters from the Wall. Or were they wildlings? Anyway, I remember they said red hair was lucky." 

"Rickon is lucky too." Arya patted Rickon's auburn curls. 

Catelyn and Brandon were still awake, when their children fell asleep. 

"I missed you, Cat," proclaimed Brandon quietly. They held hands as their babies slept. Catelyn brushed his hand against her face. Brandon carefully leaned over to kiss her. "Fancy a dip in the hot pool?" 

"Now?" she whispered. Catelyn did not want to leave the children alone, but she wanted to be with their father. 

"Tomorrow?" Catelyn nodded. Brandon grinned and lay back. They lay smiling at each other before they too fell asleep. 

* * *

Cersei paced in her solar. The decanter of wine was empty. The wine had not soothed her. Her mind whirled at the thought of that Hightower twit in her mother's place. How could have her lord father agreed to this?

_"Aye. Queen you shall be... until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all that you hold dear."_

_(Cersei, A Feast of Crows)_

The marriage between Lynesse Hightower and the little monster would bring nothing good.

"Cersei," called Ned. "Your lord uncle said you were upset about your brother's betrothal."

"Yes, end it. Break it off. You are the king, Ned. Send him to the Wall or her to Essos in exile. Ned, please."

"Cersei, have you had nothing else besides wine? Calm down, dearheart," Ned said as he tried to soothe her.

"She has already begun taking something that is dear to me," Cersei cried. "Ned, you didn't see her. She flaunted my lady mother's jewelry like a common whore trying to be highborn.  _Casterly Rock."_

_If I had been born a boy. It would not have mattered if Jaime died._

"Tyrion is to inherit it, Cersei," Ned reasoned. "Perhaps, you can claim some of your mother's things for keepsakes. I doubt you will be denied."

"I will find out her secrets," she planned as she put her hands on her hips. "Did you know she flirted with your sister's lord husband at our wedding?" This was news to Ned.

"You southrons are rather over familiar in your courtly talk. It's not to my tastes. I don't think I will ever get accustomed to it."

"Are you going to intervene, Ned?"

"If there is nothing condemning on either your brother or Lady Hightower. I don't see the need to intervene." Her green eyes flashed in displeasure in his answer.

"He is your good brother and you are the king," Cersei spat with anger.

"Make peace with him," Ned plead with exasperation. 

"I will never make peace with anyone who plots against me," she roared at him. "He is the valonquar. I know it." Ned froze then grew angry as he realized she was still taking stock in the prophecy.

"I asked you to forget that witch's words. I order you to speak no further of this," Ned raised his voice for the first time to Cersei. Cersei opened her mouth to argue. "Cersei, I won't hear any more of this." 

* * *

Lyanna held Eryn in her arms as she watched Jon climb his first tree. Dacey and Alysane were cheering him on.

"I climb, Mama! I climb," shouted Jon. Lyanna smiled.

"You climb very well," she praised him. "Come down now for some hot broth." Jon carefully climbed down.

"I'm a bear, rawrr," roared Jon as he began to run to Bear Hall. Eryn laughed finding her brother amusing.

"What was battle like, Lya?" asked Dacey curiously.

"War is scary, Dacey," answered Alysane.

"It's not for children," replied Lyanna as she kept an eye on Jon. Dacey was not satisfied with this answer.

"What was it like to fight all the Ironborn? They won't bother us anymore because of you and Cousin Jorah." 

"It was-" Lyanna began.

"I bet you didn't lose a fight," Dacey said confidently. Lyanna bit her lip and looked straight ahead. Euron's face conjured and his parting words were loud in her mind. The knife against her throat. The dying men. She had defeated everyone she had fought prior to Euron. Lyanna frowned in realization that it was only time Jorah or Brandon had not been around her the entire war. It had annoyed her that Jorah protected her like a mother bear with its cub. Did that mean she was not strong or skilled enough to fight on her own?  _  
_

"I fought well for my size," she admitted finally. "I did need help." She felt bile as she admitted this aloud. 

"But Lya, you must have done some impressive stuff too just like Cousin Jorah," insisted Dacey. Lyanna's hand suddenly twinged with phantom pain. 

"Dacey," chastised Alysane. 

"I am not as experienced as many of the Ironborn. It was my first time in a war." Lyanna walked inside the log keep and sat down by the fire. Eryn gnawed on a wooden teether after her feeding. Jon and his elder cousins had finished their hot broth and pieces of bread. Lyanna had not paid attention to where they had scampered off to. She was bothered by the questions Dacey asked. Lyanna imagined she would have tales to proudly tell. Lyanna walked to their chamber and placed her sleepy daughter for a nap in her cradle. Lyanna sat on Jorah's side of the bed staring at her sword in its place. 

Jorah's heavy tread announced his presence. Lyanna looked over at him with a smile of greeting. He returned the smile as he removed his cloak and his sword belt. His face revealed his weariness from today's work. Jorah smiled at the sleeping Eryn and sat down next to Lya. 

"How are you, love?" Jorah asked as he removed his boots. 

"Well. Eryn was less fussy today." 

"Poor babe." Lyanna leaned her head against his shoulder and nodded. 

"Jorah."

"Mhmm," mumbled Jorah as he lay down with his eyes half open. Lyanna lay down with her arm propping up her head.

"If I wasn't your wife, do you think I could fight on my own in a war without you or my brothers there?" Jorah's eyes fully opened and his jaw twitched as he thought on an answer.  _How to not hurt my feelings._ Lya's grey eyes stung with incoming tears.

"The master of arms and Father spoke of Danny Flint to scare me," she spoke quietly. "I didn't care- I wanted prove them all wrong. Was it a waste to train me?" 

"You fought well to defend our home from the wildlings and the Ironborn," Jorah argued.  _You or Maege were there. Or both._ Lyanna wished she felt the same boastful pride she had when she was the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Ned had a military victory to solidify his rule and Jorah has his knighthood. She just had nightmares, wounded pride, and self doubt. 

"If Euron comes for me?" Lyanna wondered softly. 

"What was that?" queried Jorah who was on the brink of sleep. 

"Nothing, sleep, my bear." She brushed his thinning blonde-brown hair before curling up against him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where makes more sense for Theon to be warded/held hostage? King's Landing or Winterfell?
> 
>  
> 
> random digression: I wish I possess the skills to make gif sets of my au pairings


	10. X

Cersei stared at the moody black haired boy whose eyes were red eyed from tears. She- and Ned had decided to have the boy warded with them in King's Landing. _For now._ Theon was his name and he looked around with nervous suspicion. Brandon had answered tardily to their summons to let him know, that he would not be returning home with another ward. Last thing everyone wanted was trouble from the Targaryens and Greyjoys in the future. Father still didn't see the sense in keeping the girl alive. Cersei agreed with her lord father but Ned would not have the girl killed.

Both Ned and Cersei did not consider Benjen and Dragonstone an option. They waffled between keeping the boy under their control in King's Landing or elsewhere like the impregnable Eyrie. Ned highly considered placing the boy in the Eyrie of the Vale under Jon Arryn's care based his own experience as a ward.

"Your Grace," addressed Theon Greyjoy stiffly as he bowed before her.

"Is your chamber to your liking?" she asked politely though she did not truly care.

"Yes, Your Grace," he replied. Cersei smiled at him, whether or not he was being sincere.

"The King and I would like to introduce you to our son, Prince Robb, and my daughters." Theon blinked and said nothing but he followed her to the courtyard, where the girls and Robb were playing under the watch of the girls' septa. The twins and Robb stopped playing at the sight of their mother and the new young stranger. Round faced, Myrcella boldly stepped forward and blurted out,

"Who are you?" Her septa clucked at her lack of manners.

"Myrcella, behave like a lady not a boar," chastised Cersei. Cersei opened her mouth to introduce Theon to her children.

"I'm Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Islands," the boy answered with a bold smirk. He feared the adults but had no fear of a younger girl. The boy was thin but charming, when he was at more ease. Cersei noticed her twins were peering at him with curiosity. One day, Theon would grow to be handsome and would be need of a wife. A lady wife with ties to the crown could help in the future. _Perhaps._ Cersei did not want to think of selling off her young daughters, but there was practical sense in a match. Cersei was comforted by the fact that it would be many years before marriages could be made. Robb, her baby boy, came up for a hug from his mother. Cersei bent down to let him in her arms. The twins followed for a hug as well with silly giggles. Myrcella had grown to the age where hugs from her mother were less often.

"He is our ward now," explained Cersei as she kissed her youngest three. Robb's green eyes glanced at Theon curiously. He left Cersei's arms to walk to the dark haired boy standing off to the side alone. "Theon Greyjoy will live here with us."

"Play?" offered Robb in the kind manner that he received from his father. Theon hesitated looking at Cersei for any signs that he would be trouble for taking the hand of the Crown Prince. Cersei gave a small nod. Theon took Robb's small hand in his and was led over to the wooden toy blocks. Joanna and Cassana accepted Theon, when he agreed to play knight and lady. Myrcella frowned at the young Greyjoy.

"Uncle Stannis says they are bad," said Myrcella confused as she stared at the gold squid on the boy's clothes.

"They won't be bad anymore, Myrcella." Cersei patted her wary black haired beauty. Myrcella scrunched up her face.

"I'll smash em' with my hammer like Daddy." Myrcella scampered over to the statue of Robert and sat on the ledge of the fountain, peering up the giant of the man. Cersei looked at the image of her late husband and took her eldest's hand in hers.

"He was a brave man, your lord father. Robert was-" Cersei racked her brain for something kind to say about him, "He was a good friend to your step-father, the King. He loved you very much." The twins saw Renly as their brother-uncle and Ned as their uncle-step father. Myrcella saw her uncle Stannis as her surrogate father.

"I know," Myrcella whispered softly. "Maester Cressen and Uncle Ned told me so." Cersei sat with her daughter, watching her blue eyes. Those blue eyes broke away from the statue of her father and turned to Cersei. "I saw a boy who looked like Uncle Renly. He looked a bit like me. He was one of the poor." Cersei frowned that her innocent daughter had seen a product of her revered lord father's depravity. _The insults to me._

"Where did you see him?" she asked sharply. Myrcella shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't remember, Mother." Cersei pursed her lips and suggested to Myrcella to join her siblings and Theon's play.

"We'll be certain to keep an eye on Theon Greyjoy around the Prince and the young ladies, Your Grace," vowed the Septa. Cersei nodded absentmindedly. 

* * *

Tyrion's wedding to Lynesse Hightower was the happiest day of his emotionally neglected life. His sister, Queen Cersei was not present to ruin it. Father had to be there. Tyrion missed Jaime keenly and wished he were still alive to be there. Though a part of him wondered if his wedding would have taken place if Jaime had lived. A jealous part of him imagined Jaime removed from his vows and wedding Tyrion's love instead. Thoughts of Jaime disappeared when he saw Lynesse in the black marbled Starry Sept. Lady Lynesse wore a gown of palest gold cloth with a cloak of the Hightower colours and sigil. Lynesse glowed in the light from the arched windows. Tyrion's breath was taken away by her beauty. She wore a sheer lace veil on her long, light blonde curls. Her azure blue eyes looked at him enchantingly as they said their vows. Lynesse knelt down to allow him to remove her maiden cloak and place the Lannister cloak on her shoulders to mark that she was his.

_Only mine, he thought possessively and with disbelief._

_Lynesse Lannister, the lady wife of me, Tyrion Lannister._

They had kissed a couple of times during their short betrothal, but their first kiss as man and wife was special to Tyrion. Tyrion had no appetite for food or drink during their wedding feast. He wanted to be alone his bride, but Lynesse wished to enjoy the feasting and drinking. Her pale cheeks were rosy from wine.

"Eat, husband, we shall be up all night," she laughed before she bent down to kiss him. He was filled with lust at sight of her ample chest and deepened the kiss. "My Lannister lion wants to feast on me." Lynesse giggled in a happy, carefree manner. His lord father coughed audibly and stabbed at his meat, but Tyrion was too captivated by Lynesse to take note. Tyrion purposely had demanded that there would be no bedding ceremony. For starters, the ladies would balk at undressing him and Tyrion angrily looked around the hall. The man who took Lynesse's maidenhood could likely be present and Tyrion could not bear to have her be undressed by the men present.

"May I dance a few dances, husband?"

Tyrion nodded though he wished for her to remain by his side. Lynesse danced with her many brothers, her good brother Lord Mace Tyrell, Uncle Kevan, and lastly Tyrion's lord father. Tyrion drank and picked at the food on his gold trencher as he watched his giddy bride dance. Tyrion laughed to himself as he watched Lynesse and his lord father dance.

"What do you find so amusing, nephew?" asked Aunt Genna from a few seats away to his left. He glanced over at his lady aunt.

"From this dance, it would appear that my bride and my lord father are actually the bride and groom." 

"If the groom was sucking on lemons," snorted his aunt. Tyrion laughed for his lord father looked stiff and miserable. "A toast you, nephew and your lady bride. May the Gods bless your marriage to be fruitful." Tyrion looked away and lifted his goblet to the toast.

"Here, here. Oh, a Lannister shall be conceived soon." Tyrion and Aunt Genna drank deeply and did not see the very slight softening in Tywin's face as he began a second dance with his new good daughter. Kevan Lannister looked away, when he noticed the almost smile on his elder brother.

* * *

War had it effects on people. Some men could not return to their normal lives and wrecked havoc wherever they went. Lyanna shoved the memories of the siege of Pyke into the back of her mind like she had with the memories of Prince Rhaegar and the tourney at Harrenhal. Lyanna busied herself from dwelling on it any further. Jorah knew though. He had noticed the changes in Lyanna. Her biting humour and quick temper had lessened and was replaced by quiet, distracted looks. Her sleep was troubled, though she did not cry out nor did she talk about her nightmares.

_Rhaegar stopped strumming his harp. He looked up at her looking melancholic and chastised her._

_"The prophecy, Lyanna. You don't understand what is going to come. We could have saved the world with our Visenya. I loved your strength and beauty, my lady."_

_"You killed my father!" she cried. He nodded sadly._

_"But you, Lyanna, have doomed everyone to their death. If you had came with me, we would have spared your lord father from a far worse fate."_

_Rhaegar disappeared and she looking down upon Winterfell. Her lord father and lady mother were walking together and couldn't hear their only daughter cry out for them._

_She saw the dead Ironborn. Old Nan's grandson. They rose from the sea coming for her. Euron Greyjoy's cruel yet comely face laughed at her. Unarmored, Lyanna ran through the pine forest, over the infertile, frozen fields to Bear Hall. She could hear his voice and their footsteps not far away from her. It was empty and the fires were out. She screamed for Jorah as she searched for her sword. Only the cold winds blew in answer._

_Hours later, Lyanna had woken up from yet another dream. One where Jorah sat despondently, staring at the blue cloth she had given him. Lyanna cried out his name over and over but he could not hear. He turned his head at the approach of another person and walked away. Jorah gently woke her and held her in his arms. Her grey eyes were filled with unshed tears._

_"You're alive and here," she gasped against his shoulder._

_"It was just a dream," Jorah soothed. He caressed her cheek tenderly._

_"You are safe with me, my love."_

_"He came for me," Lyanna cried as she held him tighter and wrapped her lithe legs around him._

_"Rhaegar is dead, my love."_

_"Not him, Jorah," Lya corrected. Jorah frowned. "Remember, during the siege of Pyke. Lord Balon's brother Euron." He went rigid and kissed the side of her head._

_"I wasn't going to let him hurt you. He is not going to. Remember, you were so happy to be fighting in war with your brothers. You all came home safe."_

_"I forgot to stand by your side. You wouldn't have these nightmares if I-"_

_"My sweet bear, tis not your fault." He stroked her long curly hair, his pale blue eyes staring at her long face long after her grey eyes closed into a more restful sleep and her lips curved into a tiny smile._

Lyanna walked to the site where the men were working. She found Jorah looking out at the sea with his large hand on the hilt of Longclaw on a break in-between working with the men of the island. Jorah was worried about her, alarmed by his unusually frightened Stark wife. The last time she had broken down in tears was when the letters of Rhaegar continued to come. He spent many nights cradled her in his arms during her nightmares. 

"Kiss me, my bear," she demanded as she approached him. The cold wind coming off the sea blew her dark brown hair. He turned his head with a smile on his gruff face and bent his head to oblige her demand. He lifted her slightly from the ground as he deepened the kiss. Lyanna had often found Jorah's overprotectiveness to be restricting. It now calmed and soothed her. Instead of relishing her independence _too_ much. Lya wrapped her arms around his bare, swarthy, hairy torso. His one arm wrapped around her waist. The other in her dark hair. 

"How's the building of the new watch tower coming along?" she asked conversationally. Lyanna did not broach the question of what was the reason why this particular tower was being erected.

"Well, very well," he answered. "I'm glad you came to see me. Where's our Eryn?" Eryn was usually with Lyanna. Jorah wrapped his black furs around the both of them. 

"With Maege. I was hoping we could slip off to the barn again or we can take a chance and go to our bed." The clouds above forewarned spring snows. His eyes drew dark in remembrance of their couplings around the island. Their time alone in their bed was often postponed till Jon was fast asleep. No more could they spend an entire day abed or even a morning without Jon rapping on their thick wooden door. Not that Jorah, as a lord, could spend every moment in Lyanna's arms. 

"I married no proper lady," Jorah chuckled. Lyanna grinned wolfishly.

"No, you did not. You love that I am not." He barked a laugh as he lifted her in his arms and walked in the direction of the trees. Lyanna leaned her head on his shoulder. Her sharp grey eyes looked around at the oak trees, flowering thorn bushes, and pine trees. The land was hardy to survive the harsh weather. 

"I need to be stronger," she mused aloud, finally speaking about she truly wished to talk about. Jorah's cheekbones seemed to tighten. 

"Faster," he corrected. "You are strong for your size already." Lyanna caressed the nape of his neck. 

"I have a knight to bed me and train me." She said the words to lighten the mood but Jorah's brooding eyes was returned. 

"A knight protects his lady," he muttered. Lyanna wished she had kept it to herself. 

* * *

Lynesse moaned as Tyrion made love to her. She was Lady Lynesse Lannister now. It was six moons since they returned from Oldtown to Casterly Rock as man and wife. Father had hosted a lavish wedding and days of feasting in honour of her marriage. Lynesse had grimaced at first but eventually ignored the japes made by others at her new lord husband. Tyrion ignored the fact that she was no maiden and she pretended he was a whole man like his late brother, _like his lord father_. Handsome like his brother or Lord Brandon. What she couldn't ignore at all was the Queen's rudeness towards her. The King and Queen had not been present at their wedding. Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King came in their stead. However, the King had sent his congratulations, along with welcoming words to Lynesse as his new good sister, and some fine gifts to make up for their absence. Lynesse forgave King Eddard for he was courteous to her at court. Lynesse had expected to be invited by Queen Cersei's quarters to join the fellow noble ladies. _I am her sister now._ She had invited Lady Selyse Baratheon, her former good sister to sup in the Queen's apartments.

 _Cersei Stark is jealous of my beauty_.

"Your sister, the Queen, is not fond of me," she complained. Tyrion did not answer as he was coming close to his peak. Lynesse had been surprised by her lord husband on their wedding night. To think she had cried in despair of having to share his bed in the days leading up to the wedding. _Do I have to? she complained to Lord Tywin as he kissed her neck._  Despite his youth, Tyrion was one of the best lovers she had had. Oh she did not find him handsome at all, but at the present it mattered little. Her breasts bounced wildly as she writhed in pleasure. When he had finished, Tyrion collapsed atop her large breasts, kissing and sucking them. She stroked his black and golden hair fondly. Her mouth pouted. "When I was at court, she did not extend an invitation to me to join her and her ladies." Tyrion looked up at her.

"Never mind her, sweetling. She has always hated me. Did you think she would invite you to braid each other's hair?" Lynesse huffed. 

"She almost caught you coming out from underneath my skirts. Your sister invited Lady Baratheon and snubbed me." Tyrion laughed.

"You were moaning my name. Unlike now, you garble on about my sister." Lynesse bit her tongue from sniping at him as much as she wished. _Was everything a jape to him?_ Lynesse would have to go Lord Tywin with her complaints. 

"Do you not care that I am treated poorly? That I'm humiliated at court." Her pride stung at the memory of the Queen's blatant slights and the ill disguised snickers from the other nobles. Tyrion looked down shamefully. His hand stroked the side of her face.

"I am sorry, my darling. I am afraid I have made you an outcast. Do you regret marrying me? Of course, I am a dwarf." His shame and self loathing made her uncomfortable.

"Oh no! I love being your lady wife," Lynesse cried instantly. She loved her lavish new chambers, the jewels, gowns, and the merry minstrels' music to dance to. Life was beautiful here at Casterly Rock. She was the Lady of Casterly Rock.

"Cersei won't humiliate you again," he vowed. Lynesse made a noise of contentment. She kissed him on the lips.

"You will command their respect, Tyrion. I know you will." Tyrion looked sceptically but was pleased with her confidence in him. _And by my hand and kisses._ He would stand up to his lord father. _One day. And protect me and our children._

_Or kill me._

"My sweet wife," he sighed happily. "Let's make a babe." Lynesse forced a smile to mask her lack of interest in children. She did not find her many nieces and nephews to be darling or precious as Mother had or her sisters. Even serious Malora seemed to melt at the sight of a babe or small child.

"If it would please you," she said quietly not looking at him in the eye.  _We are young. I am young. Too young to ruin my figure._ Lynesse did not want to think of babies until it became impossible to ignore. 

As a girl, she had found the histories to be dreadfully boring unless it related to valiant knights and grand love stories. Lynesse had been bored one day and sat with Tyrion in the library, listening to him read aloud. It had now become a ritual for him to read to her. Tyrion's voice was nice to listen to, as if the Gods gave him a voice to make up for his misfortunes. Lynesse brushed an unruly curl from his misshapen forehead. She wondered if she would bear a child like him. 

_Oh the horror._

Lynesse was summoned to Lord Tywin's solar in the very early morn. Tyrion was still asleep in her bed, snoring peacefully. Lynesse bit her lip as she left her chamber, unsure of what to expect from her formidable good father. Tywin had danced with her at the wedding, whilst his son, her new husband had sat, waiting with anticipation for the bedding. He had looked bored and impassive throughout their first dance as if she had never been in his bed. He had asked her an unimportant question and she must have made a pleasing answer for he smiled at her briefly. She walked through the empty, lit corridors up the stone steps to Lord Tywin's solar. 

"My lord? You summoned for me." She shut the door behind her and walked over to his study. He stood looking out the window. He turned his bald head to look at her.

"Are you with child?" he asked bluntly.

"Yes, my lord," she answered with a lump of guilt and resentment. Her necklace weighed down on her, but she was a Hightower of Oldtown. _Choking me._ Lynesse stood tall and proud. "My debt is paid, my lord. Tyrion is my lord husband. He-" _Loves me_. She was a moth drawn to two flames and either one would burn her to a crisp if she were not careful. Tyrion would never forgive this. To her relief, Lord Tywin nodded and dismissed her. His green eyes were unreadable and he didn't move towards her. For that she was relieved. _Why are you shaming me like the Mad King did to your beloved wife?_ Lynesse wished him dead, yet a part of her wished he would be rid of Tyrion and just marry her. What would become of her if their affair was found out? No one would believe her. The Queen hated her for whatever reason and loved her lord father.

 _Even Tyrion won't believe me._ She wasn't even sure if Baelor and Humfrey could help her.

"Tell him the news. That you suspected for awhile but wanted to be sure." Lynesse nodded numbly. 

A lion's den was no place for a Hightower of Oldtown.

* * *

 In the beginning of the following year, Cersei found herself with child again. The realization of this pregnancy differed from her previous three. She was more than happy to share the news with its father. There was no disappointment that it wasn't Jaime's. Not mere duty like she felt, when she realized she was pregnant with Robb. Cersei sat next to Ned during the Small Council waiting for it to be over. Cersei held his hand that rested on the arm of the chair. Ned gave hers a small squeeze, but didn't lose his focus from the purpose of the meeting, though he noted her distraction.

"You were distracted earlier. I thought you would voice your opinions on the High Septon," noted Ned as they walked, followed by Ser Manderly and Ser Glover. Cersei led him to his solar, which was closest. She shut the door as the kingsguards took their post outside. Cersei laughed and wrapped her arms around Ned's middle. She kissed him deeply, before making her announcement.

"Ned, I am with child." Ned smiled broadly as he laughed happily at the news. He knelt and kiss her stomach. Love and joy were clear in his grey eyes. Cersei held his long bearded face in her hands. "I can't believe I love a wolf, but I do." 

Cersei had been fearful for the birth of Myrcella for she knew her lady mother's fate. She had trembled alone in Storm's End without even Jaime to comfort her. The birth of her second child with Ned, Cersei's fourth daughter had been her most difficult labor. Cersei thought throughout, that she would die like her lady mother had and would leave her four young children motherless. Ned paced outside the birthing chamber, his long face tight with fear and anxiety at Cersei's anguished cries. He had burst through the doors, when at last the sound of a baby's cry could be heard. Cersei smiled at the sight of him, exhausted. Ned knelt by her side and kissed her hand. The sex of the babe was announced. The babe was shown to the royal parents briefly before she was cleaned. "A girl, Cersei, with your golden curls."

"The Sansa Stark, you wished for." Ned wished to name his firstborn daughter after a Stark ancestress. A strong, yet pretty northern girl name. After Sansa Stark was cleaned by the midwife, she was placed in Cersei's arms. Ned kissed Cersei twice, then brushed the light baby hairs of their daughter. 

"She's a beauty," exclaimed Cersei as she stared adoringly at little Sansa. Cersei was little partial in thinking Sansa was her prettiest babe, since it was her first child to have her look. A golden lioness.

"Like her mother," added Ned as he beamed at their newborn daughter, a golden wolf. "Princess Sansa."

The bells in King's Landing rang all day in celebration of Sansa's birth. Cersei smiled contently as she lay listening to the bells with Sansa at her breast. Ned had gone for drinks with his younger brother who came to the capitol for the birth of his new niece or nephew. He returned later with the children to meet their new sister. Myrcella, Joanna, Cassana, and Robb entered the chamber with varying interest. Cersei raised an eyebrow at Theon Greyjoy accompanying them but said nothing. Greyjoy stood close to the door. Robb and the twins climbed onto the bed and peered at Sansa. Myrcella remained at the foot of the bed. Ned encouraged her to come closer. Myrcella shook her head no. Ned looked a little deflated, but did not force the girl to meet her new half-sister. Cersei frowned at her firstborn. Theon Greyjoy looked more interested in Sansa than her own flesh and blood sister.

"Hello, my sweetlings," smiled Cersei. She smiled at Myrcella, hoping she would come over. The child had been around Stannis too long. Cersei swore she saw Myrcella pursed her lips in her petulant sulk. 

"She's cute, Mama," cooed Cassana. Two sets of green eyes crinkled in agreement with Cassana. Joanna leaned her head against Cersei's shoulder. Cersei kissed her little nose. Robb kissed Sansa's forehead.

"Wittle sister." Ned sat down on the side of the bed. He smiled as he gave Robb an affectionate pat on the head. Cersei smiled at her son and husband then turned her gaze back to Myrcella.

"Myrcella, come here my baby."

"I'm not a baby," argued Myrcella with a pout. Theon rolled his dark hazel eyes at Myrcella. Robert Baratheon had liked to be told how wonderful he was and his progeny were no different.

"You are my first baby. My special first baby girl. Like the twins are my precious twin babies. Sansa wants to meet you." Myrcella's mouth slightly upturned.

"She does?" Myrcella looked from Cersei to Ned. Ned nodded with a small smile. Myrcella climbed on the bed and slowly crawled over to look at Sansa. Myrcella raised an eyebrow, before looking at her mother. "Why is she so wrinkly?" Ned let out a sigh of relief and quietly smiled at the children. Cersei remained skeptical for she had been jealous of Jaime and the Baratheons were known for their mercurial tempers. 


	11. XI

Tywin knew his good daughter hated being pregnant. She scowled angrily as she did her duties as the lady of Casterly Rock. Tyrion was still dazed and overwhelmed by the changes in his lady wife's body and temperament. Tywin maintained a face of neutrality at Tyrion's happiness to be a father, for only he and Lynesse knew otherwise. Tywin had plans for this child that he would make sure Tyrion would not interfere with. He envisioned a strong, strapping, bright golden son. A son who would not be 'stolen' like Aerys had done to Jaime. _Murdered my heir. My heir._

Tywin watched from afar, as Lynesse had a picnic with her ladies in the courtyard. Tywin was not in love with his good daughter. Aye, Lynesse Hightower was a pretty fair haired girl, but he had little patience for her vapidness and false courtesies. He mistrusted her silly laughter. All she did was laugh it seemed. She could not match Joanna even when he decked Lynesse in his late wife's jewels. Yet Lynesse had un-expectently filled a void that had not been achieved by any bought whore secretly brought to his chambers. Not that Tywin would ever admit it. He maintained that Lynesse Hightower was just a means to an end.

Tyrion appeared and Lynesse's face lit up as she greeted the dwarf Lannister with a kiss. How did she not hate her dwarf husband to the core as Tywin hated his son? Tywin's eyes narrowed as he watched. How did this abomination deserve to live, no matter how Tywin wished for his death, to live happily with his wife? When Tyrion's life had denied Tywin that happiness with Joanna? Tywin turned around and headed back to his solar. Her ringing laughter and Tyrion's voice echoed after him. 

_Why was Jaime dead? Why was this son alive and not in one of the seven hells, where he belonged?_

Lynesse feared him and hated him as she should. The girl was paranoid about their affair being found out and sought assurances from him that he would protect her. Her letter requesting for one of her brothers to live and serve her at Casterly Rock had mysteriously fell into the burning fire in his solar. Lynesse's laughter ringing through Casterly Rock would come to end with the advent of his golden son. _Grandson._ Tywin would care for the boy and ensure the Lannister legacy would not be brought down with Tyrion and Lynesse. _A pair of fools._ Tyrion's happiness with his love would be short lived. Tywin's son in Lynesse's stomach mocked Tyrion's ardent love for his lady wife. Tywin called for his page. 

 "Send this to Lys," he ordered as he handed a letter as the boy arrived promptly. 

* * *

 Jeor Mormont had been given leave to visit Bear Island. The old bear had met his two grandchildren for the first time. He bounced Eryn on his knee as she tugged on his long grey-white beard. His pet raven squawked for corn. _Corn, corn._

"Why do you wear all black, Grandfather?" asked Jon peering up his imposing grandfather.

"To match my raven of course," boomed Jeor as he bent his bald head to speak to Jon. Lyanna smiled and ruffled Jon's dark brown hair. Jon smiled shyly and continued eating his supper.

"How's the Wall, Father?" asked Jorah as he refilled his cup with more ale. "I have seen wildlings attempt to make it on our island before their makeshift boats break and sink into the sea." _Corn, corn._

"My group of rangers nor the others haven't reported much. Those wildlings were likely driven out of their villages for whatever reason." _Cold. cold._

"What was that?" Lyanna looked up at the raven above with a frown. Jeor tossed some corn on the table.

"Blasted bird. I heard you. Here's your bloody corn." Lyanna watched the raven swoop down for the corn. Lyanna felt cold as it looked at her directly. _Cold, it said to her._

"Cold," parroted Eryn who was watching the raven, fascinated. Jorah wrapped her in a wool blanket and kiss their baby on the cheek as picked her up in his arms. Eryn giggled in a high pitch at the feel of Jorah's scratchy beard.

"You brought the cold winds with you from the Wall, brother," cackled Maege as she entered the logged keep with her daughters. Everyone laughed except Lyanna who was still unsettled by the raven's stare. Jeor groaned in part jest and part seriousness at having to see his sister. Maege quipped back at him causing more laughter.

"Are you cold as well?" asked Jorah as he took off a fur from the wall to wrap Lyanna in. "Lyanna?"

"I'm fine," she answered slowly yet Jorah draped the fur over her shoulders. Lyanna leaned her head on his shoulder and blew kisses at Eryn. Later, that night after the children had all been tucked in their beds and cradles, Lyanna walked down the wooden steps to find Jeor's pet raven. Lyanna stopped as she heard Jeor and Maege's voices by the hearth. Her grey eyes caught sight of the raven perched on the shoulder of her good father. Lya turned around disappointed until she heard her and Jorah's names.

"I had told him time and time again that no soft handed southron lady was fit for life here. Jorah is bursting with pride over his knighthood. He didn't need a title of ser for people to know he is brave. Those two children and his Stark wife are his achievements. Our House will continue through that Stark haired cub. I can tell Jon would make a good lord one day." There was brief pause. Lyanna smiled at the praise of her beloved son. She and Jorah were so fiercely proud and protective of their Jon and Eryn. "I pray he doesn't get fanciful ideas like Jorah did. Winning southron tourneys are frivolous and pointless in the grand scheme of things." Maege agreed,

"Jorah couldn't have wedded a better wife than Lyanna. Two strong northern children. He got a _fairytale_ wife, a Stark of Winterfell." Jeor laughed.

"How many ladies of House Starks have married a Mormont lord? None, I tell you. I am sure Karstark and Umber are still grumbling behind our backs.""

"Hummph, a Stark married a Mormont five hundred years ago, brother. Oh, I am sure Rickard Karstark is hoping a son of his will marry Lord Stark's daughter."

"According to your narrative," retorted Jeor. "Gods, how I don't miss the currying of favour between lords." Lyanna smiled at the bickering brother and sister as they bickered over whether or not Lyanna was the first Stark lady to marry a Mormont lord. Lyanna decided she would join them and walked over. The raven hadn't moved from Jeor's shoulder. The wooden floor creaked announcing her presence.

"May I join you?" Lya asked.

"This hall is yours, good daughter. I'm a mere visitor." Jeor offered her his seat. Lyanna thanked him but sat on the oaken bench. Maege poured her a cup of the clear spirit. Lyanna took a sip that burned her throat. Lyanna blinked at the potency of it.

"So what's the Wall like? I have never been. Father only took Brandon with him the times he went."

Jeor stroked his long beard and scratched his bald head. "The Wall itself is indescribable. You have to be there to get a true grasp at its magnitude. Not a life of comfort up there. The Night's Watch itself is not what it once was. We haven't fallen and nor shall we. Lord Commander Qorgyle always sends patrols to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea every third day and another patrol to Shadow Tower every second day. He is planning a visit to meet your brother, Lord Stark at Winterfell, but the way things are I suspect it won't be for a few years." Lyanna nodded fascinated and asked more questions.

"What do you mean 'by the way things are'?" Lyanna stared at the raven.  _I didn't imagine that you said cold not corn. You have said queer words before._

 _Corn._ Lyanna frowned not fully paying attention to her good father. Clearly, the bird was fucking with her. Jorah sat down next to her on the bench. 

"It's still spring," shrugged Jorah interrupting his father. 

"Winter is Coming," Lyanna automatically said.  _Cold, winter, cold._ "Did you hear that, Jorah? It's talking to us." Lyanna stood up and pointed at the raven. It flew away but looked at her from it's perch. Jorah's deep laughter rumbled. "It did, I swear!" 

"Love, you have had enough of that." Jorah wrenched the cup from her hand. "Forgive Lyanna, Father. She's never had the stomach for this." Lyanna scowled in frustration.  _Were they deaf?_

_Maybe you are drunk._

"He picks up words and repeats them at random when he isn't cawing for corn," explained Jeor in good humour. Lyanna glared at Jorah.

"Annoying thing, it is," contributed Maege.

"I'm fine," she insisted trying wrench herself from Jorah's grasp without success. Jorah bid them good night and gently led her up to their chamber. Walking was tiring.

"I heard it say something other than corn. Do you remember the last winter?" Lya asked. Lyanna had been born during the last winter.

"Aye, I was a boy of fifteen." Lyanna leaned on Jorah as he wrenched open the thick wooden door to their bedchamber. Jorah's strong arms around her were keeping the world from moving and she from landing flat on her face. "What are you thinking of?" Lyanna's brows furrowed in confusion. _I am not sure._ Lyanna shivered as she removed her gown that Jorah helped unlace and crawled under the furs without donning a nightgown. Jorah undressed after placing a sheathed Longclaw on the logged wall.

"What were you like as a boy of fifteen?" Lyanna wondered briefly about where she would be now if she had been born a boy. R _haegar would have never looked at me. Ned would likely not be king. Father might have lived._ Jorah slipped into the bed. Jorah lay on his side placing a hand on her stomach.

"I had my first bear hunt." Lyanna had yet to partake in an actual bear hunt. The bear hunts were not frequent events as she had thought and she had been pregnant with Eryn during the last one. Jorah kissed her neck and began trailing kisses down the valley between her breasts.

"Your first fuck as well, you bear." Lyanna looked at him knowingly. "A crofter's daughter?" she guessed as she sat atop him making him lie flat on his back. Jorah reddened slightly. Lyanna's mouth quirked with amusement.

"All before you, pale in comparison," he declared holding her waist firmly, looking at her softly.

"How?" Jorah raised a brow at her flippant tone. "I'm likely the palest one by far," Lyanna giggled as she placed her pale hands against his swarthy and hairy chest. Jorah laughed as he kissed her deeply.

"The most beautiful as well, my love. Even when you taste of that bitter drink." Lyanna kissed him, her long, dark curly hair cascading forward. They lay under the thick pelts and wool blankets, wrapped in each other's arms. 

"It's warm, not cold," murmured Lyanna as she ran her hand over her bear's torso. 

* * *

  _"He had dreamed enough for one small life. And of such follies: love, justice, friendship, glory. As well dream of being tall. It was all beyond his reach, Tyrion knew now." - Tyrion, A Dance with Dragons_

Lynesse was very tired, very sore, and extremely disappointed. She heard the maester announce to her husband,

"It's a girl, my lord." Tyrion snapped at the maester that he did not care for the sex of the babe. He wanted to know if Lynesse survived birthing their child. Her stomach lurched with dread at his use of _our_. Lynesse would have been touched by his concern for her life but she felt coldness and detachedness. Complete discomfiture.

"Lady Lynesse, is she?"

"Well, my lord. My lady is extremely disappointed that she did not give you a son." Tyrion exhaled a loud sigh of relief and waddled to Lynesse's chamber. Lynesse lay so still, Tyrion's face paled almost believing that she had died. Her fair, creamy skin was pale and drained. Lynesse's blue eyes were filled with devastated tears.

"Lynesse, my lovely." Lynesse did not look at him even as he climbed onto the bed and kissed her forehead. Tyrion caressed her cheek.

"Thank the Gods, they have not taken you from me," he exclaimed quietly. Lynesse woke from her trance and kissed him. She wanted to hide under the coverlet with him forever. As if that would protect them. 

"It is not the Gods, who will part us," whispered Lynesse cryptically. Her blue eyes were wide and pleading him. Tyrion paused uncertainly and asked for the maester.

"Are you feeling well?" _I'm ill with fear._

"Would you like to see your daughter, my lady?" asked the midwife with the baby bundled in a white linen cloth. Lynesse pursed her lips and turned away from the infant.

"My wife," gasped Tyrion in shock at Lynesse's rejection of _their_ daughter. He looked at the midwife with questioningly eyes. The midwife uncovered the babe and showed that the baby girl was perfectly formed. The baby began to cry at the cold air and was quickly covered again. Lynesse did not spare a glance at _their_ daughter or asked for her even as the midwife took away _their_ fair haired daughter to the wet nurse. She wanted to be rid of Tywin Lannister yet she needed him to protect their secret. 

"I'll give you a son, Tyrion," she vowed softly. Tyrion murmured assurances that he was not disappointed in _their_ daughter. Lynesse prayed like she never prayed before that Tyrion would never learn of this. She stroked his light almost white blonde hair as they embraced. A son would have sealed the promise that the arrangement would come to end. _No more summons_. Lynesse had failed and she did not know what would happen next. Lynesse began to shudder violently as she cried and Tyrion shouted for the maester. _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, she wept._ The maester gave her a tonic to calm her. Tyrion held her as she drifted off to sleep. Her blue eyes looked at him with love she had yet to realize and express in words. Lynesse slept with a serene smile from the draught and by Tyrion's presence.

* * *

 Cersei hid a pleased smile at the news that Lady Lynesse _Lannister_  has birthed a daughter as her lord father was visibly irritated. _Enraged and disappointed is more correct._  Father looked furious, when she laughed that Tyrion failed to sire a son on Lynesse Hightower. He looked about to strike her. Cersei glared at him, daring him to. He may be her revered lord father, but she was the queen. Ned would be furious if she came to him with a mark on her cheek. Tywin instead gave her a cold, withering glare that subdued Cersei's gloating at her hated brother.

"Let me remind you failed thrice in providing a male heir in your first marriage," growled her lord father icily. Cersei frowned and looked away chastened as she did since she was a small girl. Her mind went to this new niece of hers. This girl would be not a match for her little golden princess with the grey eyes of the Starks. The little monster's children would likely be terrible beasts like him. Perhaps, Cersei would get her hopeful wish to have a Lannister other than Tyrion rule Casterly Rock in event that her lord father passed away. Uncle Kevan would have to do. His son, young Lancel looked similar to Jaime but was not meant for ruling so far.

"Who's son is that next to Uncle Kevan?" she asked as she racked her head of all the names of her Lannister cousins.

"Your lady mother's brother's eldest. Daven," answered Father uninterestedly. Cersei gently tapped her hand on the armrest of her ornate chair. A golden eyebrow raised with thought. The thought could wait.

"Excuse me, Father." Tywin nodded as he turned to his papers still in a foul mood. Cersei found Ned finishing a conversation with Lord Arryn. Ned smiled at Cersei as she entered the council chamber. Cersei nodded as Lord Arryn bowed to her on his way out.

"Ned." He kissed her in greeting and his hand rested on the curve of her bottom.

"What did you and Lord Arryn speak of?" she asked smiling.

"There's been rumours that Elia Martell has died," Ned answered. Cersei smiled and almost laughed. What a lovely day of news.

"Well, she was a weak, sick thing. It wouldn't come as a shock now wouldn't it?" Ned gave her a look but did not join in her joy. He cleared his throat to change the subject from Elia Martell.

"What do you think of Varys? He has pledged fealty and petitions to join the Small Council as my master of spies." Cersei pondered on what she knew of Varys.

"The spider was in the ear of Mad King Aerys." Ned nodded. "He could be useful though."

"Lord Jon said the same."

"And dangerous as well," added Cersei as Ned rubbed his chin in thought. Cersei wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin against his chest. Ned's arms circled her.

"I wonder if he is working with the Martells," mused Cersei. 

"The timing of this rumour and Varys," Ned agreed. 

"You look radiant today," he complimented. Cersei leaned up for a kiss. She had many things to be radiant about.

"That whore from Oldtown has birthed a daughter. My lord father is furious," she could not help to mention. Now was not the time to broach her plan for a match between Joanna or Cassana and her cousin Daven Lannister. _Maybe Lancel if he shows to be less weak minded in the future._

"They still may have a son, they are younger than us." Cersei rolled her eyes at her husband's neutrality. Stannis as the Lord Regent for Myrcella and now perhaps, she would have another daughter rule Casterly Rock with a Lannister husband. Tyrion and Lynesse would somehow be removed.

"Perhaps, Varys could be useful to us," she suggested thinking of how the spider could aid her in bringing down the valonquar and his lady whore of Oldtown.

"How?" asked Ned suspiciously noting Cersei's gleaming, conspiring eyes and smile. Cersei sighed,

"To learn of Dorne's designs against us, of course. I doubt Doran is going to stop plotting against us just because Elia has died." Ned pondered her sense but seemed to have misgivings. Robert would have forgiven or turned a blind eye to former Targaryen supporters. Ned knew war but his political sense was not as astute as his military campaigns. He doesn't act fast enough.

"Trust me, Ned. Jon Arryn and Stannis would agree as well. They agree with me, I take it?" Ned's long pale face shook his head no.

"Stannis is agreement with me." _Useless man._ Cersei growled in frustration.

"Don't you want to keep Robb and Sansa safe?" Ned's face hardened and grew cold. Cersei glared back at him, though she shivered in the inside.

"I can keep them safe without an eunuch whispering in my ear," he barked with his fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. Ned strode away out the Small Council room likely heading to the godswood. Ned as amiable as he could be had an unyielding will that tested hers. 

"Ned," she called out to him. Cersei blamed Tyrion for her disagreement with Ned. It had nothing to do with her. Cersei had Sansa brought to her and carried her daughter to the godswood, where Ned sat before the eerie weirwoods. Cersei wrinkled her face as she stared at the faces. She did not like the wildness of the godswood or the strong feeling that she was being watched by the Old Gods. Sansa made a little squeal of recognition at the sight of Ned. Ned turned his head at the sound of their daughter. Ned sheathed his sword and reached out for his daughter.

"Hello, my little princess." Sansa smiled at Ned and looked around at the weirwoods. They didn't seem to frighten Sansa for Ned brought her and Robb here often. "Would you like to sit with us?" Cersei really did not want to remain the godswood but she was the lioness of Casterly Rock. She would not show her discomfort to these strange gods, so Cersei sat down next to her northern husband.

_How do you derive comfort from these trees?_

"Ned, we could have him spy on Viserys Targaryen," Cersei argued as he stroked Sansa's golden curls.

"I mistrust him, Cersei." Cersei frowned and bit her tongue from arguing in front of their daughter. When they finally left the grim godswood and walked back to the castle. An impertinent boy bumped into Cersei. The three members of the Kingsguard raised swords at the black haired boy. Ned tensed, placing half of his body in front of her as he still held Sansa in his arms. 

"My apologies, Your Grace. I wasn't minding my way. I meant no harm."

"Well you should watch where you are going," snapped Cersei at the insolent young man.

"I should have- I will, Your Graces."

"Who are you?" questioned Ned.

"Petyr. Petyr Baelish, Your Grace." The short young man bowed. Ned looked at the young man with curiosity.

"You were Lord Tully's ward. My brother defeated you in a duel." Petyr nodded with a light smile but his eyes went hard at the mention of Brandon Stark.

"Aye, Your Grace." Cersei was uninterested by this unremarkable boy of low birth.

"Be on your way," she dismissed this Petyr.

"My apologies. If there's anything Your Graces need, I am at your service," he called after them.

* * *

 Malorei Lannister died within a moon of her birth. Lynesse did not know to take her child's death. Grief for she was a little innocent but Lynesse could help but feel relief as well. _Tywin will not touch me again._ Lynesse had just been warming up to bond with the babe after the shock of what childbirth entailed had dissipated and _everything else_. In the sept, Lynesse stared at the Mother through her veil of dark Myrish lace as she prayed. Tyrion's uneven steps disrupted her prayers.

"Forgive me, Tyrion," she whispered. Her blue eyes glittered with tears. Tyrion looked at her sadly.

"Her passing is no one's fault. We will have more children. It will be alright, my lovely Lynesse. Little Malorei was-" Tyrion did not seem have words for the unexpected loss. Lynesse looked up at the Mother. Her poor Tyrion was behaving stoically though she knew he had cried at the death of the baby. 

"I am being punished, surely." The walk of atonement loomed in her mind and the loss of Tyrion's love plagued her since Tywin first summoned her. Her hands trembled.

"For what? It's not your fault, Lynesse." Tyrion took her trembling hand in his.

"I don't feel as sad I should." Lynesse had felt very glad in a way for the unfortunate baby. The baby was free from the shameful revelation of who her father really was. Malorei would not be affected should Lynesse's feared downfall occur. "That sounds so heartless, but I hadn't thought of myself as a mother and now I am not." Tyrion caressed her hand.

"I suppose not everyone goes mad with grief." Lynesse nodded weakly and kissed his hand.

"I do feel terrible, Tyrion." She added, "I don't feel safe." How easy it was to confess in the colourful, perfumed sept in the presence of the Gods.

"What do you mean?" Lynesse hesitated and bent her head down hiding from him behind a curtain of long blonde curls. "You can tell me. You haven't been yourself, I attributed that with being with child and now our babe's death." He moved her hair and veil out of her face. Lynesse gulped.

"Oh, Tyrion. I promise I will be a good wife. The very best. We will have sons and darling daughters." Her frenzied vows alarmed him so she added, "Please not too many, I don't want saggy tits." Tyrion kissed her and gently touched the curve of her bosom.

"My love, we shall. You are already the dearest of wives. I fail to see how you feel unsafe?" He looked confused and concerned. She wished she unburden her heart to Tyrion for he was her only friend here in Casterly Rock. Lynesse had the sinking feeling that Tywin had somehow prevented Humfrey from joining Lynesse as she had wished. _Humfrey would fight for me._ _My darling Bael and Hum would protect me, their little Lynnie._ She didn't trust her letters were sent unread by Tywin. 

"I'm afraid that I may die as well," she answered in the most truthful way she could. Tyrion trembled and shook his head violently.

"Don't think such things, Lynesse," he shuddered. "I love you so much to lose you. We are going to die, old and grey. Having a good fuck." Lynesse wrinkled her nose at the thought of aging, but living to be old with Tyrion was a lot more beautiful than dying young, youthful and shamed forever. Her dreams had been plagued of her Hightower pride broken in a walk through the crowds of Lannisport. Her insides went warm at the thought of an far older, bearded Tyrion parting her legs, and looking at her as if she hadn't aged at all since she was seventeen.

"We will scandalize our grandchildren with our ardor," whispered Lynesse in his ear before kissing his neck. Lynesse felt warm and happy, lighter and more carefree for the first time in ten moons. "My lion love." As Tyrion passionately kissed her, she opened her eye and looked to the Warrior, praying for a hero to strike down Tywin Lannister and to end her fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended on keeping Varys out of King's Landing as Ned in canon was against Robert's decision to keep Varys around. But him messing around with the Lannisters' secrets (the twincest, and Tywin and Lynesse) is tempting.  
> He'll stay in Essos/Dorne for now. 
> 
> I have written some Margaery x Benjen and older Myrcella for some future chapter.


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry I haven't updated in forever and that this update is mostly filler.

Jorah gazed at his wife as she sat in their bed, plaiting the Northern style of braids in her long dark hair. Lyanna was already dressed in her shirt and trousers. He lay on his side, lazily delaying getting dressed by watching Lyanna. Her rose pink lips quirked into a half smile. When she finished tying a thin leather band to hold the plaits in place, Lya threw off the fur and wool coverlets to get him up out of bed. He reached out to stop her. His large hands on the narrow span of her waist. She bent down to kiss his long nose.

"We must get ready, Jorah. It's my first bear hunt, I don't want to be late." Jorah smiled at her enthusiasm. Her hands were roughen by her work around the island half heartedly tried to wrench his arms away. Her grey eyes rolled in amusement as he drew her close. Her pale hands had never been the soft hands of wealthy highborn ladies. One of her pale hands swatted his hairy chest. Jorah could not help himself to try to tarry a little longer.

"You have a bear in your midst right now." His voice was gravelly as it usually was in the morn. Lyanna caressed his cheeks lovingly.

"Ah, I am well aware from last night," laughed Lyanna not dissuaded from partaking in the bear hunt. Not that Jorah was seriously trying to. He was hoping they could sneak one quick lovemaking before- "Come now, dress. So we can hunt a real bear." Jorah kissed her before finally getting up from the refuge of their warm bed. Jorah donned his thick wool clothes and his armour. Lyanna handed him Longclaw after she had secured her own sword belt. As he fitted on his boots, he looked up at her.

"Promise me, you will heed my instructions and orders." He trusted himself to protect her from harm. Jorah had seen a young reckless lad almost mauled to death and many close calls since his first bear hunt many years ago at the age of fourteen.

"I'm not a child," she argued instantly. Jorah raised his sword showing the snarling bear on the hilt.

"This is not a hare or a stag, Lyanna." Lyanna scowled at him having heard it all before. Jorah chose to ignore the scowl as he felt justified in being overly protective. He knew Lyanna wasn't stupid or a damsel in distress. However, Lyanna naturally flirted with death and she was unafraid to take risks. One would have expected Lyanna would've been sobered by the idea of being a warrior lady after her first experience in the battles at the Iron Isles. The war had troubled her for awhile but her nightmares had seemed to have gone away. The Starks were made of sterner stuff and she was a resilient northerner. 

Jorah had laughed whenever he watched (with hidden nervousness) at her tree climbing, her swimming far too out for his liking in the ice cold sea, and riding her horse at a speed that would cause a normal person to fall and break their neck. _Braggart, he sometimes muttered with a shake of his head._ Lyanna would laugh and whoop in exhilaration as she turned back with her horse to circle him. Jorah admired her spirit and wildness but it also disquieted him. He had dreamt three nights ago of a conversation with Lady Lyarra Stark and the first time he had met Lyanna, the two events were separate instances but in his dream they had converged. 

_Lady Stark had a thoughtful look after the pleasantries were made and mead was served. Jorah's lord father and Lord Stark were quietly discussing something. Jorah politely asked about his betrothed Lyanna and her siblings. Lady Stark had spoken fondly of her four children who she loved deeply._

_"I was so ill-prepared to see so much of my parents in my children. My father had a restless spirit and my mother a daughter of Flint. Brandon is a good lad, he will be a good lord one day but he has the same wandering spirit. It shall be a long while before he becomes Lord of Wintefell," laughed Lady Lyarra. "Lyanna is adventurous as well. The wolf's blood runs strong in my girl. You will learn that quickly, my lord." Lady Lyarra laughed wryly. "I know my girl has dreamed of lands outside of our northern borders." She frowned for a moment but added quickly to Jorah, "I am sure she will like her new life on your island."_

_Young Lady Lyanna arrived at last, dressed in pretty pale blue northern gown. The hem of the gown had a two inch stain and splatter of mud and her pale cheeks were flushed pink. Arm in arm, he awkwardly glanced down at Lyanna Stark's long dark hair crowned with winter roses. His aunt had insisted in giving the girl a sword. The sunlight glinting off the small sword in Lyanna's grip as she gazed at it in awe._

"Lyanna, my love, give me your word," he insisted, his eyes pleading her to comply. Lyanna took his swarthy hand in her much smaller paler hand. However, he knew one pretty smile and a kiss would disarm him and he would enable any wish of Lyanna's even if it would cause their ruin. A fool for love, his lord father had called him. 

"I give you my word as a Stark," she vowed. "You won't have to worry about me." Lyanna dragged him out of their bedchamber. Her face full of anticipation for the bear hunt. Jorah's aunt greeted them, ready for the hunt with a small number of the men of Bear Island bearing spears. Bear spears were too large for Lyanna to handle especially without previous experience. Her involvement in the bear hunt would be hopefully be only observation. She patted one of the many hounds who barking. One of his men handed him a spear,

"M'lord."

Jorah nodded and turned to Lyanna, "Stay by my side." Lyanna nodded. Jorah led them deep into the woods. They followed the dogs' lead. It was about three or five miles away to where the bear had been spotted nearby. The scout signalled the sighting of the bear as the hounds went wild. It was a great brown bear, likely a male. Jorah glanced at Lyanna whose sharp grey eyes were wide at the sight of the 600 pound bear. He turned to one of the elders of the island, a seasoned veteran of many bear hunts.

"This one w'll give us a good fight, m'lord," warned the toothless stocky man, Gareth. The bear growled warnings at their closeness. Jorah and the men with their spears raised pressed forward.

"Lyanna," ordered Jorah. Lyanna and Gareth called and whistled for the large hounds to distract the bear. The bear roared and lunged at them with great speed. The dogs boldly attacked the bear. The bear bared its teeth menacingly as it attacked back. One of the dogs' yelped in pain, but they had been successful in distracting the bear. Jorah got close enough to spear the bear near the neck. His aunt and the others all attacked the bear with their spears. The injured bear was furious and charged at Jorah. Jorah dug his heels into the ground as he tried to not get knock off his feet by the impressive size of the bear. Or get his throat or shoulder slashed by the bear's teeth. He locked the end of the spear into the ground to hold the weight of bear as it continued to fight. Gareth, and a young lad Edwyck did the same. Gareth had been correct, this bear was not going to do down quickly despite its bloody spear wounds and hounds' bite marks. The hounds encircled the bear and one jumped on its back. Jorah unsheathed Longclaw with one hand and was about to plunge the sword in the back of the bear's neck. His left hand grasped the spear tightly embedded in the bear, which was breathing heavily and movements had slowed. 

"Let me, Jorah," demanded Lyanna from behind him. Jorah glanced over his shoulder at his wife for a second. He was mindful of his proximity to the powerful jaws of a bear. Lyanna had her sword out and she looked eager. 

"I've got it, love," he insisted stubbornly. 

"Stupid bear," growled Lyanna. Jorah wasn't a humorous man, though at the oddest of times he tried.  

"Which one are you referring to?" grunted Jorah with effort as the bear tried to slam itself on them. Finish the kill swiftly. 

"I think she meant you," snorted Maege from somewhere. Jorah groaned loudly at the sharp sting of the cuts he had received from the large black claws. He slackened his grip on the spear. He cursed

"Mi'lord," warned Gareth. Lyanna shouted at him. Jorah was a large man with considerable strength but he was knocked to the ground like one of Eryn's cloth dolls and scrambled wildly for Longclaw as the bear went to slash his throat and chest. Jorah yelled in pain. He heard Lyanna scream his name. Jorah kicked at the bear desperately as he gazed longingly at Longclaw feet away where he had stood. The hounds' barking and howling echoed in his ears with the breath and snarls of the bear. He saw a second long glimpse of a swing of his aunt's axe. The bear moaned loudly. 

"That's my husband!" snarled Lyanna's angry voice. He heard the sound of a sword stabbing flesh. _I need Longclaw._  

"Lya, get me Longclaw," he tried to tell her. "Maege-" Jorah's wind was knocked out when the bear collapsed on him dead. A hound stepped on Jorah's face in its eagerness to taste a reward of bear flesh and blood. "Argh." When the damn hound's butt was out of his face, Jorah's jaw went slack in shock. Lyanna looked so wild and fierce as she glowered at the dead bear and pulled out her sword. Her steely gaze softened when she looked at him.

"Lya, you killed the bear." It wasn't a question or even a remark of surprise. 

"Do you think I was going to stand there and let it kill you?" breathed Lyanna when she knelt at his side and kissed him. Her fingers touched his neck and the gash of claw marks on his shoulder. "Lift your head slowly. There's blood from a cut or two and a lump. No cracked skulls. Thank the Gods." 

"Showoff," grumbled Jorah with a pained smile as the others moved the bear off him. He sat up, hissing in pain. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and felt the painful lump on his head. Lyanna laughed in his ear,

"Try harder next time, my Lord who-boasted-he-can-throw-bearspears-with-such-precision." She inspected the rest of the claw marks with a tight face. Her voice was on the verge of tears, "And to think you were the one fretting over me getting hurt. Let's go home, I'll stitch you up, my bear." His mouth quirked slightly. 

"I did throw a spear and it killed the bear," argued Jorah to divert the conversation and to defend his pride. It was Lyanna's first bear hunt and it had not gone the way he wanted although he was glad it was him and not her who had been wounded. Lyanna helped him up and gave him a small grin. 

"Some things need to be seen to be believed, my bear."

"I truly did," protested Jorah irritably with pain as they walked. "I was one and twenty, it was on the northeastern part of the island-" 

"Goading this cankerous bear's pride after you saved his skin, I'm proud of you," snarked Maege then she laughed in the awful cackle of hers. In a maternal manner, she asked, "Alright, nephew?" Maege was staying behind to bring the slain bear back to their logged keep.  Jorah nodded and stubbornly shook off offers of aid from his men. Longclaw was brought to him and he and Lyanna began their trek back to Bear Hall. 

"I'm sure there shall be one day when you can show off these skills," Lyanna told him as she watched him wince and bite his lip from pain. 

"You are still teasing me," groaned Jorah. 

"Partially," admitted Lyanna. "Yes, because you get riled so easily." 

"Are you alright?" he asked. Lyanna looked him in disbelief.

"I am fine. You?"

"I'm in awe," he admitted glancing at her softly. Lyanna flushed pink and shook her head. 

* * *

Jaime often questioned his decision to serve Prince Viserys. He did not care for the young boy who had been under Queen Rhaella's watchful mothering eye until she had died in childbirth. Jaime did not even spare a thought for the orphaned daughter hidden away in the North. No one spared the princess any thought except Prince Viserys. The young child prince wished for vengeance and to regain his late father's throne. Oh the irony, that his father's killer would help him. Viserys wished to save his baby sister. His lilac eyes stared at his late mother's crown jewels often as if Queen Rhaella's crown would provide him the strength and the answers to achieve his desires that hung heavy on his young shoulders. Jaime had found Sir Willem Darry and the prince in a manse with a red door. Jaime stood by the window of said manse gazing at the lemon tree that grew outside.

"Why haven't our brothers come? Or at the very least written?" whispered the old knight. Jaime looked at the older man. "I was expecting Ser Arthur or Ser Barristan to turn up at the door. No offence, Ser Jaime, I thought you were dead. I am surprised that you have not returned to King's Landing since your sister is now the queen." Jaime shifted uncomfortably at Willem's hard stare. That was the question he had expected and he had wondered long and hard why he didn't just return. He would see Tyrion again. _Oathbreaker, they will call me. Kingslayer if they have knew I slew Aerys_. Jaime scowled bitterly, _I saved that city._ Jaime longed to see Cersei and yet he didn't at the same time. Months, now years had past since the fall of the Targaryen rule. When Jaime had _died_ , Cersei had been a mother of three Baratheons. Now she was a mother of five children, none of which were his. Jaime had learned from Mopatis that his little brother had married proud Lord Leyton Hightower of Oldtown's youngest child. He felt palpable relief, he never wanted Casterly Rock. _Tyrion would be a better lord than I._

"Selmy died of his wounds," informed Jaime. "At least that's what I have heard. I am not here at the behest of my sister. I am dead to the world. Not even my family knows I am alive." Jaime had gone in search of his fellow white cloaked brother and the prince in part of ingrained loyalty in an oath he had made, but more so in the want of familiar faces. And out of petulance, if he could not have Cersei then he would not give her the satisfaction of him. He had killed a king already though no one knew it had been him. He would relish the task of killing Ned Stark. How dare she not mourn him, her love properly? Cersei had married the stone cold Stark in such rapid succession. Forget Baratheon's untimely death in battle. Jaime had been murdered in the very throne room, his beautiful twin had all but raced to. He pettily wished for a brief second that he had wed Lord Hoster Tully's youngest daughter Lysa, just to see Cersei's beautiful face crumpled in fiery jealous rage.

Sir Willem regarded Jaime for several moments.

"I swore an oath," added Jaime. Protecting this boy was only thing that remained of his identity as a knight of the kingsguard. Darry looked at him sharply not believing the son of Tywin Lannister. Jaime did not blame him. He lied anyhow, "I failed the father, I hope to not fail his last living son." Ser Willem seemed to wrestle for a few moments before giving a slight nod with mistrustful eyes.

You could still return to King's Landing, his mind argued echoing Ser Willem's words.

"Let's keep it that way then," advised Darry in a sharp tone. "Keep the beard, boy. No one will look for Lord Tywin Lannister's golden son in an unkempt young man." Jaime nodded. "How did you know where to look for His Grace?"

"I met a merchant prince who told me Prince Viserys and you were here." Ser Willem nodded who seemed to have also have had contact with this merchant.

"We shall contact our brothers in Dorne." How hasn't Ser Arthur not contacted Ser Willem yet?

"They have forsaken us, Ser Willem. It has been more than a couple of years, since you and the prince fled Westeros. The Martells have Elia's children, Prince Rhaegar's heirs Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys. "

"Patience will be needed, when dealing with Prince Doran, Ser Jaime. Ned Stark must not be sitting easily knowing Prince Rhaegar's son and brother are alive."

"I certainly hope not," Jaime agreed as he tapped his fingers on the window sill. 

* * *

Cersei used to question why she let Ned bound his younger brother to the little rose of Highgarden. Lady Margaery Tyrell was growing closer and closer to womanhood and the marriage to Benjen Stark would soon be sealed in six years time. The young girl was a lively ten year old. _Pretty even._ Cersei descended the stairs with Ned and Benjen. She watched Lady Margaery's curling light brown hair bounced as she played with her children Robb and Sansa and Theon Greyjoy. Robb appeared to have taken to Margaery easily as he had to Theon Greyjoy. Robb vocalized his anger loudly, when Benjen interrupted their game. Lady Margaery leapt up for an innocent embrace from her friend and betrothed. It did not sit well with Cersei that this pretty child would be a _Stark_. By the looks of older Tyrell lady, they preferred Margaery become _Princess Margaery Stark._  She understood Tyrells needed to be courted to prevent them from turning south of their borders and allying with the Martells, but she did not have to like them. Robb's green eyes flashed at his uncle pressing a light kiss on the Lady Margaery's hand.  Young Margaery such a quick diplomat crouched down to the almost four year old.

"Don't be sad, my Prince Robb. I'll be your lady aunt one day and we shall be dear friends. I bid you farewell, my prince."

" _My friend_ ," repeated Robb, the anger in his green eyes shone as he grabbed Lady Margaery's hand.

"Lady Margaery and I shall visit soon, nephew," chuckled Benjen. Cersei noted the wizened Lady Olenna Tyrell who accompanied her eldest Tyrell granddaughter often, watching Prince Robb keenly. If Margaery had not been betrothed to Benjen before Robb's birth, Cersei surmised the Queen of Thorns and her son Lord Mace Tyrell would have pressed for a betrothal for their ever smiling Tyrell rose and Cersei and Ned's only son. Cersei's beloved boy snubbed his Stark uncle petulantly in his disappointment of his new playmate's departure.

"Robb, do not be rude to your lord uncle," reprimanded Ned firmly.

"I'm sorry, my lord uncle. I bid you and Lady Margaery a safe journey." Robb hung in his head in apology and allowed Benjen to ruffle his dark brown hair as Sansa waved her uncle farewell. Benjen, Lady Margaery, and Lady Olenna exited with a final bow and curtsey.

"Buh bye." Sansa spotted Cersei and smiled a gummy smile with her arms outstretched. "Mama!"

"My little princess," Cersei picked up her golden child and kissed her pretty little face. "I love you." Ned smiled at them. Robb pulled at his father's leg.

"I want to play." Ned lifted Robb onto his shoulders. Cersei frowned at a rose pinned to her young son's shirt. She plucked it off and threw it away. "Dat's mine, Mother." Her son looked back at the fallen rose. 

"You have no need of it, my son." She sniffed the air. "I'll be glad when this castle no longer reeks of roses." The corners of Ned's mouth upturned slightly as he liked the Tyrells little. Though if she were honest he seemed to like all the Tyrells together a smidge more than he liked her lord father, Tywin Lannister. 

"I shall miss Ben's company," Ned sounded so woefully sad. Ned seemed regretful that his children would never truly know life in the North after he told Robb and Sansa stories about his early childhood. It was almost as if he half wished they lived in some _rustic northern_  keep allotted to a second Stark son. Cersei wrinkled her nose not understanding what he could possibly miss about the barbaric wasteland that was the North. _Do yo_ _u miss the cold and famine?_  

Ned had not adopted the New Gods and kept to his bloodthirsty Old Gods, despite the fact that the majority of their subjects prayed to the Seven. Cersei recalled Lady Olenna Tyrell's great show of piety at the Sept of Baelor and little Margaery sweetly skipping about buying meat pies and flowers from the stalls of the market. One ignorant little urchin even mistakenly called Lady Margaery Tyrell, a  _princess._ Cersei's blood boiled at the very thought. Cersei was the queen and her Sansa was the only princess. Now her only son had formed an innocent attachment to the girl. 

"Have your brother visit alone next time without his Tyrell betrothed," she suggested as her way of offering comfort and serving her own purposes. 

* * *

Catelyn felt out of sorts in the eerie godswood of Winterfell. She looked at the weirwoods and surmised she would feel like an outsider no matter how long she would be called Lady Stark or how many Stark children she would give birth to and raise. Even being pregnant with her third child did not provide her with any ease before the great red faced weirwood tree. She stopped abruptly to look around for her Brandon.

"Come on, Cat," urged Brandon from his seat. His face bore one of his easy smiles. Brandon often seemed amused and disappointed in her unease of being in the presence of the Old Gods. Yet he childishly wrinkled his nose at the strong smelling incense and the figures of the Seven in the small sept Lord Rickard had built for Catelyn. He laughed at her hesitancy, "I'll protect you with my sword." Catelyn ignored the double entendre but glanced at Ice in its scabbard was leaned against the stone next to Brandon just to be safe.

"I did not wish to disturb your prayers," she excused as she tread gracefully through the rustling red leaves covering the ground. Catelyn cringed as she realized she could have simply waited for him to return to the castle.

"I was done praying anyway. You weren't afraid, when we swam in the pools." Catelyn blushed bright pink. She had been terrified but her desire to be with Brandon and her desire to show him that she could be a strong brave northern woman. Anyways, Catelyn knew she would be safe with Brandon and the grim Ice.

"My sister has written," Catelyn announced, trying not to think of how Brandon loved her in the warm pools. Brandon kissed her and she fought to keep her thoughts on her poor little sister. _Sweet Lysa._

"Lyra?"

"Lysa," corrected Catelyn. Brandon wrapped an arm around her as she sat next to him.

"Right. Your sister was a shy thing. Is your lord father well? And Edmure?" Catelyn smiled as he tipped her head for another kiss.

"Oh, Father is well and so is Edmure. She has written to tell me of her decision to become a septa. Father planned for her to marry Lord Jon Arryn and I am afraid her newfound vocation is a desire to get herself out of the marriage." 

"He is old enough to be her father, perhaps, that was repulsive to her," thought Brandon. "I would run away if I had to marry a man as old as Arryn." Poor Lysa. If only the match with Jaime Lannister had worked out, she would have been so happy with a golden haired son or daughter.

"Yes, perhaps, I would have done my duty. Lord Arryn is old enough to be her father or grandfather but he is the Hand of the King and the Lord of the Vale. I remember she all wished for was a good marriage and children since we were little girls. To have a match just as fine as mine. Now all the sudden, Lysa has joined an order of septas. I don't understand."

"My brother wanted to join the Night's Watch so badly and now he is a lord and betrothed to Lord Tyrell's only daughter. Little sisters and brothers are strange."

"I suppose," agreed Catelyn slowly. Catelyn wondered why her lord father did not insist that Lysa do her duty and marry or the forced joy in Lysa's letter.

"Did you come to just tell me about your sister? Is there something else?"

"I came to also speak about our ward. When Lysa mentioned becoming a septa, I thought perhaps we should send D- our ward as well. The servants do not know how to properly address her. Is she to be called Princess Daenerys or simply Lady Daenerys?" Brandon's face grew dark and he shook his head.

"Ned's daughter is the only true princess," he bursted in a chilly voice, which frightened her. His rages were just as loud as his boisterous manner. Brandon looked wild for a second. "Call her a lady, but I don't see any Targaryen worthy of a title. I will not bend the knee to a Targaryen and neither will our children. I'll write to Ned, perhaps it would be best..." Catelyn placed his large hand over the swell of her belly. Brandon's wild look calmed slightly. Catelyn often thought of the risk of keeping the Targaryen girl in their home. Dorne does not have the numbers to start a war, she assured herself.

"Very well, my lord husband. I take it this babe won't be named Torrhen." She tried to lighten the mood. Brandon's mouth curled into a small smile.

"Aye, Rodrik and Willem are finer names for a son. Or perhaps, Brandon?" Catelyn smiled as her Brandon ran his hand through her red curls. Brandon was always unfailingly confident. He would want a son to be named for him. Catelyn imagined a dark haired boy with his father's handsome smile. Handsome everything. Catelyn was in awe of Brandon and believed his wild, warm boyish nature would mature with age.

"You seem so certain this babe will be born a boy." Brandon shrugged with a wink.

"Arya is so much like my sister and I in looks and personality. It would be nice to have a little red haired girl who jumped into the pools after her elder siblings." He stared at the sturdy branches of the weirwoods and the pools around them with a grin. Brandon glanced at her down at her. "I remember finding you swimming in the river during one of my visits to Riverrun." 

"You should have made your presence known," blushed Catelyn, remembering when she had half shrieked at Brandon finding her swimming in only her linen chemise. 

"I swear I cleared my throat twice," insisted Brandon with the widest grin. Catelyn rolled her eyes and smiled as she leaned her head on his chest. "I wasn't the only one who stumbled upon you if I recall."

"Petyr," sighed Catelyn with a frown. The boy who had been her friend had developed fanciful ideas that his love for her was enough to break Catelyn's betrothal to Brandon. She did not love him and only thought of him as a friend. Petyr had written her letters even after she had married Brandon and moved North with her new husband. She burned them all without reading them. She shook her head and said quietly, "The fool." Petyr had gotten himself injured and exiled from Riverrun for his foolishness. As Cat stared at the floor of blood red leaves, she thought of the blood on Petyr's face. He could have died by Brandon's hands if she hadn't stopped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I really tried with the bear hunt even though I had no idea what I was writing. *sighs* How I could write a fanfic about the Mormonts & Lyanna without a bear hunt? After trying to research on it, I still don't understand how medieval bear hunts went down. I pretty much re-watched Leonardo DiCaprio get mauled by a bear in the Revenant many times but I am not sure that really helped me. The outcome of the bear hunt changed a total of 5 times but all contained the HBO GoT reference of Jorah's spear throwing skillz in season 5. 
> 
> Any name suggestions for Cat and Brandon's baby? (sticking to historical Stark names like Ned did when he named Sansa).

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment! xo.


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